Recalling what happened last night is not exactly…vivid for Cordelia Chase. She woke up the next morning after…well…sleeping with Doyle. Doyle out of all people! How she got into bed with him could be deduced by one word…That we’ll get to later. She was fresh out of High school, not exactly the kind of girl that a man would have sex with.
“Cordelia,cool it down.” Cordelia told herself. Holding on the wheel –Perhaps talking to herself—is keeping Cordelia in her right mind. Worrying about Angel and Doyle could make her break apart (mentally) in this very situation. Cordelia was driving Angel’s car.
Yes she is the secretary who does the calls and in-voices for Angel Investigations. No Cordelia is not wonder woman. She’s one of those everyday people (who happen to get into supernatural business). And that she comes from Sunnydale, the (once) biggest and meanest girl in Sunnydale high school history.
The job gave Cordelia a salary to go off while waiting for her acting career to start.
Cordelia got out of bed, at 7:45 AM. It was pretty early for a human to get up at this time. However this isn’t the case for Cordelia and whoever works for Angel Investigations. She got at least some sleep to keep her up for the day.
“Picture this as an audition!” Cordelia goes on, brightly. “…that doesn’t require you doing this just so you can eat. It’s going to be all right! Yes!”
A blue and gray Volkswagen passes Cordelia, while honking at her.
“Picture this as an adorable dog, and, wave.” Cordelia instructed herself, smiling and using her right hand to wave at the passing Volkswagen.
Cordelia quickly took hold on the wheel after the vehicle passed.
“Here comes your turn!” Cordelia excitedly informed herself, taking a swift turn at a bench (With old objects on it) right at the corner of the street.
After 2 minutes driving, Cordelia drove into a wide alley in-between a broken down grocery store and a boarded up pet store. The wall (of the Alley) to the right has two big bed mattresses set upright to each other. Across from them (on the left side) are two open dumpsters that have an empty wall space above them.
“This wasn’t a dream.” Cordelia is using her blow dryer to dry her hair off. She lost her virginity to him. And Doyle may not exactly be on the ‘oh that was…unexpected’ safe side; Cordelia could safely guess he couldn’t believe that even happened. Doyle wasn’t in bed when she woke up.
She saw herself in the mirror; A girl who got in the crosshairs of supernatural and getting her hair dried.
What she did remember is fuzzy.
Cordelia parked the vehicle in park mode so it wouldn’t go rolling back.
A white circle appeared on the wall above the open dumpsters.
A powerful wind gust sent the second mattress down which bumped into a big, long vent and fell right across/under the first mattress.
Doyle flew out the white circle then hit the first mattress. Next he fell on the second mattress.
“Doyle!” Cordelia shouted, as she unbuckles her seat belt and opened the car door.
Doyle got upright rubbing the side of his head (In human form).
“Dat was worse than dah sewers.” Doyle grumbles, looking up from the bed-object that cushioned his fall to Cordelia’s direction. “Wesley’s right behind me.”
Cordelia grabs Doyle into a tight, warm hug.
“I was so worried about you!” Cordelia exclaimed, her hands on the side of his shoulders. She backed out the hug. Her eyebrows hunched together at the mention of Wesley. “Did you just say Wesley? As in Wesley, the watcher?”
Doyle shook his head.
“Watcher…Not exactly,” Doyle tells her. “He’s taken a different occupation.”
Cordelia came out the bathroom combing through her hair using a brush. The boys had talked about a plan. A plan she didn’t really understand through and through. It involved microphones, big book of demon knowledge, some ingrediants, Doyle’s slight involvement to draw him out, and Angel recovering from the fight.
She looks at Doyle, letting go of his shoulders.
“So he’s a…Ex-Watcher.”
Wesley fell out the white doorway.
He landed in an open, empty dumpster.
“I should have gone in voluntarily!” Wesley complained from inside the dumpster. He climbed out the dumpster (He more like fell out the dumpster). He could see Cordelia hadn’t changed a bit since he last saw her in Sunnydale. And if she were to become that really good woman then Cordelia has a long road mapped ahead.
Cordelia saw an open notebook on the dining table right across the kitchen. She sat in the chair where the notebook lay. Her hair is drying off (not dripping wet) thanks to the towel wrapped around it. Wonder is what lead her to read this object that had been ignored last night. Everything that happened last night was a bit fuzzy.
“I’m worried about you and Cordy,” The Notebook reads.
That’s Phantom Dennis’s writing; it clicked in Cordelia’s head. Doyle and Dennis were getting a-long…this time. A few weeks ago Doyle had waltzed in smelling and looking like he had spent the day in a bar, Doyle claimed Dennis took something—like a square, small box—Before he left her house hours ago. He went on to claim that ‘Dennis has been hidin’ me spare celebration scotch from dah last case!’and got locked in the restroom by Dennis.
“What?” Cordelia watches the book close on its own.
Confusion and fury goes through her small, frame body.
“Dennis, I was reading that!” She screeches, her hands balled up into fists.
The book flips back open.
“What kind of favor?....Doyle. What are you doing? Are you going to bed with her? DOYLE! she’s replaced your coke with—“
Cordelia groans, slapping her forehead.
“Oh,” Cordelia recalls, leaning against the seat. “I gave him scotch.”
Cordelia rubs her temples, as Dennis puts a Coffee mug in arms reach for her.
“And I was scared that I would lose him…He doesn’t have anything that really matters, asides to his packing bag….nothing left to remember him by.” She takes the coffee. “Thank you Dennis.”
Cordelia had a unconvinced-what-the-hell facial expression..
“What is your occupation, Wesley?”
“Rogue Demon hunter.”
“Demon Hunter?” Cordelia repeats, with a smile as she is tilting her head. “What is a Demon Hunter?”
She looks adorable to Doyle doing this.
Wesley told her.
Cordelia’s questionable look turns into a worried, concerned one.
Out of the wall came a flying suitcase similar to Mary Poppin’s bag.
“Doyle.” Cordelia used her best ‘I want some answers’ voice. Missy floated to Doyle’s side like a loyal canine. “Are you related to Mary Poppins or something?”
“Ya two have ta be kidding.” Doyle referred to them both. He rubBED his forehead, annoyed by their constant reference to Missy as Mary Poppin’s bag. “They ripped Mary Poppin’s bag off Missy!”
Cordelia blows on the coffee enough to cool it down.
“Doyle, where are you going to be laying low?”
Wesley rubs his forehead.
“He won’t find me dis time around.” Doyle said, with one of his assured tone of voice. “I moved apartments.”
“But Doyle...He knows you,”
“Not dat well,”
“You told me, I quote ‘He beat me up.’,” Wesley quoted him.
Eventually, with Cordelia’s help, they came to an agree-able point. Tomorrow would be day two. So with the plan that Doyle had in mind and Wesley’s vague knowledge in Killanobi’s; there was an expanded plan. Cordelia didn’t understand half of their conversation. However Cordelia is the one driving Wesley to Angel Investigations. Wesley assured her that he’s going to get what they need for this plan.
“Can they track humans?” Cordelia asked, raising a quick eyebrow at the rearview mirror.
Wesley looks really sure. Doyle looks doubtful at best.
“It is not hard ta find your presence,” Doyle tell her, picking up the luggage. He finishes this with the one nickname that made Cordelia’s eyes sparkle. “Princess.”
“Not by my knowledge,” Wesley adds. “Killanobi’s are able to hunt down half-demons. Not humans.”
Doyle rubs his forehead in a way that said ‘Wesley just ruined the moment’.