Wesley and Doyle were in an abandoned, old elevator. The doors to the elevator are open. Wesley has some doubts about a few key components to their plan. It’s 9:43 AM in the morning. They had spent two hours getting this plan ready. They are not exactly in the building where Angel Investigations is. Angel had insisted to help them; however some of his wounds prevented him from doing so.
“Doyle,” Wesley tugs on a loose, rusty level sticking out from the corner of the elevator room. He tugs on it again. “What can we get from an elevator in this…really,” Wesley hears a crack from the level. Leaning on the wall neighboring Wesley is a wooden plank “Stubborn plan!”
They are changing the elevator a little for their ‘stubborn’ plan.
“Dere’s two ways I see it;” Doyle said. He wraps a thick, almost thin garlic skin around the much larger cables. He turns his head at Wesley’s direction. “One, I die; two, we get Dean in his most vulnerable condition and get Demonic ta his dad.”
“So how come we are meeting him here?”
Doyle glares at Wesley.
“Because Angel had dah right senses not ta tell where Angel Investigations is.” Doyle uses wide garlic skin around lower half of the cables.
Wesley grabs the plank and uses it to split a corner of the level from the rest.
“If Dean wants ta meet us in Angel Investigations,” Doyle connects the cables to the garlic, then he shut the box lid. “Dean’s gettin’ what he asked for.”
_______________ ______________________________________ _ _____
It is 4:34 PM in the afternoon. Demonic learned getting through a white room is not hard. All he needed was to be in his werewolf form. The doorknob is easy to pick using a long claw. That’s how Demonic was able to get into the fridge last night; eat some brownies, try lemonade (Tasted slightly bitter), and make a mess in the kitchen. He also discovered locking the knob is easy.
Dean’s apartment door is not easy to open. So Dean did not know that it was Demonic who made the mess. Demonic pretended to be asleep in his room when Dean returned. He got this streak from his dad’s side (A sneaky man) of the family. Paul’s family has a history of grifters and con artists. On the bad side Dean did not know.
“Tell me how old you are.” Dean is traveling through the sewers with Demonic on a leash. Dean does not trust the boy to be out there in the open (With Dean being a demon and all). He also has a gun aimed at him. It seemed quite mandatory to Dean.
Dean looks at him point-blank.
“Uhhh…” He is befuddled. Maybe I should have listened to mommy on my birthdays.
Dean jerks the boy.
“S-S—seven or NINE!” Demonic guesses. Anger makes Demonic shift into his lycan child form. His fists are shaking. His palms are padded, the fur slightly covering his knuckle raise up.
Dean stops, slack-jawed at his guess.
“ Hw—w-h-h-h-how—why do you expect me to listen…” Demonic goes on. His hands become fists. “In front of delicious cake? NO! I cannot listen when there’s chocolate in front of me! Take a guess Mr.I-have-been-alive-since-the-ice-age!”
Dean brings his gun up.
“Don’t insult me. Lycan.” Dean said, in a deep voice. “I have met more spoiled brats than you.”
Demonic bites Dean’s hand (The one holding the leash).
“My hand!” Dean lets go of the leash grabbing his bleeding hand.
Demonic ran fast as he can through the sewers. Dean wraps a handkerchief around his bleeding left hand. This kid will not be biting when I get him! Dean has been through all the tricks in the book. But being bitten is not preventable. Kids are fun to torture, but not fun to have 24/7.
“Leashes are off the table,” Dean notes to himself, running after Demonic.
Dean is running with the gun in his right hand.
Finding the correct way to the location where Angel Investigations is located took longer than Dean thought. It took twenty five minutes to get Demonic back (This time he didn’t have a leash). This time Dean wore big, hard gloves that reach up to his elbows. When they came to the surface it was not hard to tell that it is dark outside. Or the fact it is late. It’s 6:45 PM.
Angel had given him directions (Or instructions) to their building.
“Brrr.” Dean shudders, feeling cold.
“What?” Demonic looks up towards Dean. He blinks twice and gulps.
Demonic can sense a bad feeling around Dean. Something truly disturbing hovered in this bad feeling that made him a little aware. Demonic didn’t know if Dean is groaning because of a stomach ache…or doing this to scare him.
Dean rubs his free hand (With the gun) against his pant leg.
Demonic is looking at him like ‘What-kind-of-bad-guy-are-you?’.
“It’s fine out there.” Demonic shrugs. He looks at Dean’s choice of clothing. “…For an old man.” Dean has the physical appearance of a forty-three old man. “You got short sleeves on, if you listened to the news about it being cold you should have brought your jacket.”
“I hate it when werewolf kids have spunk.” Dean mumbles, grabbing Demonic by his shirt collar. “Right across from us is Angel Investigations.” Dean points to the building across. “In an hour…you won’t have a hero anymore.”
That gets Demonic frightened. Doyle is not just Superman to him…Doyle is Batman to Demonic.
Dean enters the building (Forcing Demonic to come in with him) through the unlocked door. The room seems a little creepy. There is some moonlight making it almost visible to adventure inside. Some shadows coming from different furniture were exaggerated making it seem there were people inside. Demonic feels too scared to take a step into a shadow.
The door shuts behind Dean.
There’s enough light Dean could see a figure at the back. If Dean had night vision then he would have been able to see through it.
“I have the kid.” Dean said, holding Demonic at gun point.
Demonic feels his heart beating a bit faster as the gun presses against his cheek.
“Doyle, stop standing there like a creep.” Dean said, taking the assumption the figure in the dark is Doyle.
Is he really…going through with this? Demonic thought, his hands were trembling. Does a hero really do that? No. Unless…
“Don’t you refer ta him as the kid.” Doyle supposedly criticized him. “You sound like…An immature bank robber.”
The 270 year old killanobi growls at this comment.
Demonic has good ears (meaning excellent hearing)and notices something up with Doyle’s voice.. Wait…does he…sound. Different? Demonic thought, as Dean pushes the gun against his throat, His accent sounds…different. Demonic caught a glimpse of a man getting ready to shoot a slingshot at a part of the hallway (That Dean is not facing). Who is he? The man has a finger on his lips.
“Come out if you want me not to finish this brat off!” Dean demands to Doyle.
A brick hits Dean’s face so he let go of Demonic.
“OW!” Dean yells taking a step back and used a free hand to clap on his face.
Demonic ran towards the man with the slingshot.
“What kind of coward does that…” Dean rubs the side of his face that hurt.
The person who he assumed to be Doyle steps out the darkness…
In fact, Dean was not talking to Doyle.
“Wesley.” A woman came out the shadows. “And I’m Cordelia Chase, an inspiring actress! How did I do?”
Dean saw a woman in Doyle’s place. If Dean hadn’t seen many teenagers through his life then Cordelia would have easily fallen to him as an adult. She puts her hands on both hips. Cordelia smiles at how she fooled him. I don’t like being fooled. Dean thought as he is a bit mad at her stunt. And her an actress?
“You are not Doyle!” Dean realizes he has been tricked by the very body he hates. It clicks in his head at the mention that Wesley, The man who supposedly quit being Faith’s watcher, is part of this.
Doyle comes through a secret passage door (that looked like it was part of the wall behind a desk) carrying a nerf gun.
“But I am.” Doyle said, as Dean is really ticked off.
Doyle presses nerf gun’s trigger and then he sprays at what is inside the nerf gun all over Dean.
“Take dah exit!” Doyle shouts to someone across from him. “And Wes, get him ta Paul. I’ll get dah blinds.”
Dean rubs his eyes as he takes a step back and trips over a curled up rug.
“Cordelia, ya need more practice on ya Irish Accent.” Doyle calls out to Cordelia. “And ten ya’ll be doin’ good at mimickin’ me!”
Doyle flips a switch.
“Who turned off the lights?” Dean cannot see a thing. He feels around then uses what feels like a table to help him get up. It’s quite ironic for a demon at his age not to be equipped with see-in-the-dark-googles.
Metal blinds cover all the windows.
Dean is punched in the gut. He kneels over clenching his chest. I’ll make that Lekochen pay! The Killanobi demon gets back up and does air punches around him. Something hard kicks Dean square at his back. Dean fell on both hands. An ordinary man wouldn’t have been able to do this unless they participated in lots of fighting. Or has superhuman strength.
“Dat is for Davis.” He hears Doyle close but not far from him. “I don’t usually do dis. But…Davis was a good friend of mine.”
Dean races forward thinking Doyle is right in front of him.
Dean hit a wall.
“For a 270 year old Killanobi, ya are terrible at hearin’.” Doyle comments.
Dean turns around, feeling his boots getting wet.
“Don’t you insult me Lekochen!” Dean threatens Doyle. Dean puts his gun away and takes out an axe from his back.
Doyle ran through a hallway which lured Dean to following him.
“You better run, when I get my hands on you…” Dean is certain he is going the right away as he hears the sound of Doyle’s shoes closer. Spikes from the floorboards make holes in Dean’s boots. Some of these spikes poked through his boots to his feet.
He hears Doyle slid into a corner.
“Scared of an axe,” Dean mutters. “How brilliant.”
A bucket dumped some kind of liquid all over Dean, again.
“Dooooyyyyyylleeeee!” Dean shrieks. “This is so not worth getting the money, now. Killing you is!”
Dean hears something rolling his way.
“He’s doing a Home Alone.” Dean jumps, and then digs his hand-like claws into the wall.
Dean hears it pass.
“I will rip him from limb to limb.” Dean lets go of the wall.
A chair collides with Dean. It ends up getting broken by him. Dean throws its pieces right behind him.
“This is stupid!” Dean furiously said.
“Ya want ta fight face ta face?” Doyle’s voice is carried down the hallway. “Ten come down dis hallway and don’t use ya axe.”
It sounded like a fairly good deal.
“I have one request.” Dean raises his voice. Dean’s arms are reached out with one of his hands feeling around for Doyle. “Turn the lights on.”
He hears Doyle’s laughter.
“Follow my voice,” Doyle’s voice is carried through the hall. “When I see ya. I’ll turn dah light on.”
It is a bargain but Dean wanted this done.
So that’s exactly what he did. He replayed the voice in his head multiple times. However Doyle’s occasional “Ya getting cold—nooo nooo ya freezing dere!” hints were annoying. I hate Lakochens more than anything. It seemed to Dean that Doyle enjoys doing this. It made Doyle seem like a smart-cookie who knew what is happening. After the long blinding guide Dean came to a room with light.
“Ya like elevators?”
Dean turns around.
“Elevators are nothing compared to stairs.” Dean brags, slightly lifting his axe. His eyes did not show mercy. “My chosen targets get to believe they are safe…when really they are not.”
Doyle yawns, leaning on a flat and rounded machine-button.
“Give up and let me kill you, Half-breed.” Dean takes his gloves off. Dean drops the two like he didn’t care. He feels the sharp rim of axe.
Doyle all but smiled, not scared by his intimidating features.
“Who hired ya, again?” Doyle asks, relaxed and eerily calm. He is holding a soft, rounded blue ball. His hand becomes prickly in black spikes, his skin changes from Caucasian to green, his eyes change from normal eye color to a bright hue of red, his chin visibility changes to Dean’s slight surprise.
The 270 year old Killanobi takes a step back.
Doyle raises an eyebrow.
“You ar-r-ar-r-ar- not a Brachen, you are half Lek-l---le—eleko-lekochen.” Dean stutters, shocked to see he is wrong. What he had heard was a mistake.
Doyle puts down the ball; then he takes out a ciggerate and lighter. The Half-Demon flicks on a lighter above a ciggerate. Did I just…make the biggest mistake in my career?. He hadn’t heard Doyle could do smoking. Nor had he been rumored to be. He’s too calm. He’s not a Lekochen.
Doyle looks up from the ciggerate, slightly smiling.
“Lekochens may be able ta breed with humans and morph ta teir demon form…” Doyle calmly said, turning on the lighter. “Brachen’s do not have; bunny rabbit ears, green fur on teir faces, human feet dat resemble small rabbit feet, and small horns on teir foreheads.”
Dean takes another step back.
“I shouldn’t be scared of a half-demon!” Dean snaps, and then he charges towards Doyle.
Doyle shook his head, apparently amused what he knows is going to happen.
“I’m sorry ta say I ain’t dah one on fire.” Doyle lit the ciggerate then tosses it to Dean.
The Ciggerate landed on Dean’s pant leg and he ignited into flames.
“DOOOOOYYLLEEEEE!” Dean shrieks, waving his flaming arms around.
He drops his axe.
“Ya showed him no mercy.” Doyle said as he watches Dean shriek while burning at once. It did make him feel sick but he wanted Dean to feel what his friend may have felt. Doyle wants to see him pay before leaving. “And I am showin’ where dat gets ya.”
The flames traveled up to Dean’s gun that had been put away.
All his bullets went off.
Doyle watches Dean fall back into elevator and the electricity blew but the sight of him burning in the elevator with flames making Dean seem like a torch is obvious. Doyle turns away from the burning Killanobi. He heard the elevator fly up. The floor is catching on fire. But being half Brachen is an advantage for Doyle. Well wouldn’t anyone want to know why?
Then Doyle jumps out a window.
Doyle lands outside the building a few feet from the door.
The scene transitions to Demonic and Paul, reunited for the first time in many years. It’s obvious Paul didn’t really what to say. But what Doyle had told him earlier two days ago on a napkin “Be a Dad” underneath where he should meet him. Paul and Qurdendidn’t meet Doyle there but a man named Wesley.
“I’m your dad.” Paul said, kneeled down to Demonic’s level.
Demonic wiggles his dad’s ears.
“Your ears are made of rubber,” Demonic said, and he slowly smiles.“Dadddy!”
Demonic hugs Paul.
“Please give Doyle my gratitude.” Paul said, looking up towards Wesley. “And what’s your middle name? Is it better than mine?”