The scene begins in Los Angeles, at night. Davies’s place has been remade into a memorial dedicated to the demons and half breed demons who risked their lives bringing in those from Los Demonio who seeked to escape anything. The rounded object that Doyle had given to Angel is in a river in a steel case that read ‘Do not open’ in Spanish.
Cordelia’s jaw drops. Angel had just told them; Doyle,Cordelia, and Wesley could do a case without him.
“Dah...” Doyle couldn’t believe what he just heard from Angel.
“Three…” Wesley is slack-jawed, holding a book.
“Of us?” Cordelia finishes, pointing to herself.
Angel puts on his dark, long coat. He seems so confident then he had ever been in . . . forever. If the happy magic stick did not count; this seems strange to Wesley. Angel rarely did this and then when they made the case pretty bigger, Angel would come in.Wesley is a bit wary; except for the time another woman had fooled them all as Cordelia. Wesley is up on his toes; figuratively.
“I trust you three,” Angel said, opening the door. It’s dark outside; he has some other business to attend to. “Three is a good number. You rely on each other; let’s test out how right I am.”
“Where you going?” Cordelia asks.
“I forgot to do something on the previous case.” Angel made a believable excuse. “When I come back you better be in one piece.”
“We will.” Wesley said. “Or in two.”
Angel shook his head as he mutters something, and then left the building.
“Are we high?” Cordelia asks, looking to both men. “Or did Angel use the magic stick thing?”
“He’s never dat confident we’ll be back in one piece.” Doyle said.
“We are not dreaming.” Wesley adds. “It’s odd to see Angel this way; let’s make the best of it—Without losing a pinkie finger, or a thumb, or a foot.”
“We get it, worryman!” Cordelia said.
. . . One hour and thirty five minutes later. . .
Angel knew what he had done.
He didn’t know who would come back, and who wouldn’t. If Dean got what he wanted; a punch in the fair and clear stab into the heart, perhaps it would be over. If Angel had stabbed him in the heart weeks ago instead of letting him live, then he may not be in this situation. All three had left the building.
“Don’t do it.” The words that Spike had said. “If you do this; they will lose faith in you.”
Before then; Angel didn’t understand what Spike was talking about.
Sadly, he knew now what Spike meant.
“It’s done.” Angel went into the building. He looks around the room that has several blinds open. Angel did not want to know who would live or who would die; he thought it might be Doyle or some other innocent bystander. He had made the most critical decision by saying, “Yes.” to Dean.
It took time to get the weapons, books, and other things that weren’t Angel’s out of the lower floor. Where would he go now? Angel had a good idea where to go; and it wasn’t Sunnydale. Moving his stuff out of the room was worth it. What Angel could not take with him was left behind or broken. If Doyle found out it was Angel’s doing; he would get ticked off. What had he done? Why did he give in to Dean’s demands?
Dean had threatened to kill Buffy, Detective Kate, and anyone else he knew was close to Angel. Angel may be a vampire but he can’t beat a Killanobi Demon. Killanobi demons are stronger than Vampires; they are skilled, wise, and trained. He simply was outgunned! Sometimes being old can make them not expect certain things or have their reaction time slowed.
Our scene transitions to Angel standing outside the building that is the HQ to Angel Investigations.
“You can’t always run. . . “ Angel repeats what Cordelia had once told Doyle. He held luggage; it probably held his belongings and weapons. “But you can run, fast as you can, until its safe.”
Now, it would be run by people who can be in the light, and in the dark.
“Goodbye, Los Angeles.” Angel then left in the dark from the building.
Angel did not expect it would end out this way.
__________ ________________ ___________
. . Two Hours later. .
. . Ship. . .
Doyle couldn’t believe what had happened. What he just learned made doubts and lose his faith in Angel. The half-breed demons down in the ship in the cargo area and Wesley had gone after one who fled. Wesley claimed he could make the kid see the other way around; not in the way Doyle would portray it. They are waiting for the two. Cordelia had insisted to be the one to be at the door so she and another half-breed could dock as soon as Wesley and the other got on board.
“Are ya sure dat ya saw Angel?” Doyle asks, not really liking what he’s been told.
“I never forget seeing a vampire hiding in the dark.” The Captain said. “There were two people—who look way uglier than my aunt---holding an umbrella for him. It’s strange to see him doing that; usually he’s comes at night. I want to make myself believe that wasn’t him.”
“Did ya see anyone else?” Doyle asks.
“This straight-punk boogie-monster like dude.” The Captain said. “I wish that I took a picture; then I get to scare my girls better than using fictional stories.”
“Did he have odd boots?”
“My binoculers are old, but still enough to see a man’s stakes---I love steak.” The Captain, watching Doyle’s face get a horrified reaction. He could tell who-ever this man was pretty much had a fearful reputation, and, was some one that could make an average man be horrified to know he’s working with a ‘good guy’.
“Dean Dexter.” Doyle says his name out loud. The Captian could tell Doyle is feeling hurt from knowing a friend had helped someone very bad “Workin’ with dah Scourge; great.”
. . Twenty-eight Minutes later. . .
. . . Ship. . .
If anyone remembers the episode ‘Hero’ in Angel season 1; then consider this. Remember the glowing large huge object that can destroy a half-breed into nothing. Remember the metal bars. Remember the wiring similar to a bomb that is located at the top. Remember the long, heavy hall connected to a staircase and there’s a platform that is right across from this dangerous device that can wipe out humans and half-breeds a like.
“Fight the good fight, right?” Wesley asks Doyle, as they are in a tough situation.
“I’m RIGHT here!” Dean interjects, holding Cordelia at knife point.
Cordelia trusts the boys have a plan, to save the half-breeds and her. She is scared.
“Between ya and me,” Doyle said to Wesley. “Dis is dah goodfight. Would ya want ta decide who ta save?”
Wesley smiles at Doyle’s comment.
“Goodbye, Doyle.” Wesley said, surprising the half-Irish demon. Doyle’s eyebrows wiggled together at the same time. I want to atone for my actions towards Giles, Wesley thought, and Doyle has everything ahead of him. Things he would want.
It took two seconds for Doyle to realize what is happening
“Take care of Cordelia.” Wesley said.
Wesley leaps and got onto the large device.
“WESLEY!” Doyle, infuriated, morphs into his demon form. The things that had kept him back from doing what he had promised were lost. They became something that was not regarded anymore. The horror on Cordelia’s face made what Wesley is doing burn more in Doyle. A friend risking their own life.
He didn’t need to see his friend being burned by the beacon.
“Dean Dexter,” Doyle’s starts. From the very first time he had been chased. Doyle was going to say those words in his own way straight back at him. “Ya time is over!”
Doyle lunges at him and rips Cordelia out from Dean’s grip.
Dean’s legs are aching.
“It’s called friendship.” Doyle takes out a spare stake from his sock. “Ya got any last words?”
Cordelia is in the crowd. Dean looks around then back towards the dead, skinless body and changes his direction towards Doyle. This Brachen may be a joke. But he sure has the guts to threaten me and say My time is over. Dean begins to think he is hallucinating. Has he ever bothered to learn from our latest fights?
“You can’t kill me,” Dean claims, covering a part of his chest. “I’m a killanobi. You don’t know what kills us!”
Cordelia gives Doyle the nod. The ‘do-it’ nod.
“Dis is for Qurden’s sister, Wesley, and Davis.” Doyle said, what happened next was fast that even a young Half-Breed would brag it beat the speed racing of a Nascar.
Demons (and humans) share one thing in common: Death by stabbing at the heart.
Doyle stabs right through the loose, barely though fabric that had been covering whatever wounds on Dean’s chest. His burning, red eyes were what Dean saw for the last time in his life. The demon turns into dust right before their eyes. The stake falls down through the sand. All the weapons Dean had took with him clattered on the floor.
Doyle morphs into his human form as he came to the side of Wesley’s dead, skinless body.
Cordelia came to Doyle’s side.
“How am I goin’ ta tell his dad?...” Doyle combs through his hair. He rubs his face as tears started. “How will I tell anyone how he died for dat matter?”
“We tell them the truth, but for the world…Wesley died by his friends. “ Cordelia said. “And that he died by…some form of skin cancer.”
Doyle looks to her, with a small smile.
“I love how brilliant ya ar, Princess.”