Chapter Eleven note: The majority of this chapter occurs during the "Angel" episode "The Ring," written by Howard Gordon, and this chapter includes some dialogue from that episode.
DOYLE
I read in the newspaper where Kate Lockley's father died suddenly. Actually, I read it in the obits.
Used to be, obituaries were not my favorite reading. The sports section of the newspaper, sure, I'd read that through. Back in the old days, I'd read the regular news too.
I'd been reading through the newspapers more thoroughly these days, hoping I might find something to tell me what was going on with Angel and Cordelia. Maybe some off-off-off-Broadway play or something would mention the casting of this new actress, or maybe some crime story would give me some hints of what Angel was fighting lately.
Now, it seems that I read the obituaries most of all. I guess it's a habit you start to get into, when it really sinks in that you're dying.
It was starting to sink in now. I had finally taken the time to stop by the walk-in clinic, when the coughing got a lot worse. They gave me one of those inhalers and a diagnosis, for whatever it was worth.
So, now I read the obits, trying to imagine what really killed them, thinking about what ought to be said in mine.
Trevor Lockley, survived by one daughter, Katherine. When they say "suddenly at his home," it usually means one of two things, suicide or vampires. If the father was anything like the daughter, I was betting against suicide.
Angel must be kicking himself that he couldn't save that one.
The impulse to go back was getting stronger now. I had to think about why, and what that meant.
I did have a choice. There was an alternative. But, I had to play out that scenario in my mind, see where it might lead.
I was going to take a little more time, thinking about it.
In the meantime, I needed to go out and relieve a little frustration. No, not that kind, I wasn't as much interested in that as I used to be. I wanted to watch something die, something that wasn't me.
It was expensive, but I knew the place, and knew how to get a ticket. I can clean up enough to fit in with that crowd when I want to do it. So, I got in there, although I had to lighten my pocket quite a bit to get in.
Then I saw the matchups for tonight: Grador vs. Siru and Angel vs. Trepkos.
Trying not to jump to any conclusions, I did a little mingling. I heard the word "vampire" quite a few times.
Damn. How was I going to spring him? With my demon half gone, along with a good piece of my lungs, I'm useless in a fight. Even at my best, I couldn't take on all the thugs I'd have to get through to get to him.
Did Cordelia and whathisname know? I could call and tell them, but Wesley would just hang up on me again.
Nobody owed me any favors big enough to bust out one of the demons from the fights. They were making the announcement already, and I still didn't have the faintest idea what I was going to do.
"Tonight's match features a new favorite in the ring - a vampire. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, for the second night in a row, and still fresh from his first kill: Angel!"
First kill?
Oh, man. They'd had him since yesterday and they had already made him kill. This was not good news.
I was getting wobbly, and I had to sit down, as I listened to the announcement.
"His opponent is a fan favorite who needs no introduction. This marks his twenty-first and final fight. Let's give a special welcome to a true champion: Val Trepkos!"
Trepkos. This wasn't my sport of choice, but I'd heard a few things about Trepkos. I inched forward, trying to get myself close enough to the pit to see what was going on, while I tried frantically to think of a way to get Angel out of there.
I wasn't coming up with one damned thing. I didn't even have a weapon with me. I had never felt so helpless, so useless, in my whole sorry life.
I had to sit there and watch Trepkos beat the crap out of Angel, knowing that if I said anything, if I did anything, it would only make it worse. Angel wasn't fighting back much. He was just trying to defend himself, and he didn't look like his heart was much in it, even for that.
I was frozen there, watching, and the weight of love and fear for him was so heavy on my chest right now that I couldn't breathe.
He fought like a man who didn't much care whether he survived the night or not.
He fought like a man who didn't really care to live if the price was too high, who was more than willing to die, as long as he could die his way.
And, God help me, I was beginning to understand us both, a little better than I ever wanted to do.
Trepkos had Angel down, and the crowd was starting to chant now.
"Killing blow! Killing blow!"
I couldn't do anything. Even if I threw myself into the ring, it wouldn't save him. And if I had to watch him die, there wasn't going to be much point in what was left of my life, either.
Trepkos wasn't killing him, even though he was down. Somebody was starting to get upset about that. And then, I heard:
"Call them off."
The crowd around me was suddenly moving away from the pit, heading toward the exits, and the gun that I had wished for in vain was there in Wesley's hand.
I never thought I'd be so glad to see Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, glad enough even to remember his name.
Once again, he was there to do what I could not. He was there for Angel, with Cordelia right behind him.
It was going to be all right, no thanks to me. It was going to be all right.
I let the stampeding crowd move me toward the exits. I didn't want anyone to see me, and besides, it was hard enough to stand, much less fight against the human wave that was pressing frantically to get out of there.
So, I left, like the coward I still am, and once I was out of that place and into the alleyway nearby, without any more bodies around me to keep me moving, I stumbled, and I fell to my knees on the sidewalk.
The escaping crowd rushed around me. I was lucky not to get trampled, I supposed.
I was on my hands and knees, getting violently sick, until long after the last of the crowd had escaped, and the noise had faded away into silence.
I was still down on my hands and knees in the alleyway when I heard the voices, from some distance away. "It's a good thing you found me in time."
Angel.
"We weren't going to let anything happen to you." Cordelia, of course. "Well, beyond the slavery and the severe beatings and stuff. Wesley came up with the key!"
"But Cordelia came up with the key to the key!"
Their voices faded away, and I was still down on the cold sidewalk, dry retching now, dizzy and feeling the cold seeping all the way into my bones. It felt like I'd never get warm again.
I couldn't save him, but Wesley could. Wesley, and Cordelia.
He didn't need me to save him, at least not that way. But, through my shivering, I remembered the look on his face when he fought, the look that said he didn't care much, one way or the other.
In another way, maybe he still did need me. Maybe.
One thing was sure, though. I needed him.
Maybe it was time I did something about that.
******
It still took me a little longer to get up the nerve to go back.
My next scan of the newspaper turned up Cordelia's name, all right, but it wasn't pretty. She'd managed to get herself a part in a play, and they'd roasted her and toasted her and had her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
I suppose that Wesley would probably be comforting her over that review, right about now.
I wanted them to go on with their lives without me, I did. So, why did it have to hurt so much?
It was time to go back. The toughest part was over. I had made up my mind what I wanted to do.
Now I just had to find the courage to face them again.
I went over to the building, and waited on the other side of the street until I saw Wesley and Cordelia leave. Then I waited a little longer.
Finally, I managed to walk across the street, and let myself in.
The office was a mess. It looked like there had been a fight of some kind. Cautiously, I went over toward the elevator.
The inside of the elevator was splashed lightly with blood.
It took a long moment before I could bring myself to press the button and start downstairs.
When I heard his voice, at first all that I noticed was my own relief. "Wesley? Cordelia?"
Then I noticed the plaintive tone in his voice. "Could you let me up now? Please?"
I got off the elevator and walked slowly toward the bedroom. "Uh, guys?" he called out again.
Then I reached the door of the bedroom, and stopped.
Angel was lying on his bed, wrapped up in a cocoon of chains. He was trapped again, a prisoner again.
But this time, I could help him.
He saw me, and his face went slack with astonishment. I didn't say anything. I couldn't trust myself to speak.
I just walked forward, and, fumbling, started to unlock the chains.
