Angel’s feet hit solid ground with a thud, and he was somewhat disoriented. He glanced around warily. I know this, he thought suddenly. He was in the cargo-hold of the ship he had paid to bring the half-breed demons to safety. It was dark and broodingly murky, with rust encrusted metal walls and slippery catwalks. But, the machine that The Scourge had lowered into the huge area was beginning to intensify its radiance, like a beckoning lighthouse, and everything was coming into a dangerously lit perspective. He immediately remembered what the oracles had warned him about- speed was definitely most important, here. Angel sped towards the corner closest to him, where he had spotted Cordy- and Doyle. The demon families on the lowest level beneath them froze and watched him fearfully, wondering what he could do now to save them.
“Doyle!” he cried, throwing his arms unabashedly around the tall, ruffled looking young man, in a very uncharacteristic display of emotion. “Doyle!” Doyle pulled away, looking at Angel confusedly. Angel tried to look as nonplussed as he could.
“You all right, boss? Well, at any rate, it’s nice to see you, too,” Doyle remarked in his musical brogue. “Even though I saw you about two seconds ago when you were beatin’ the stuffing out of the meanies down there.” His sarcastic tone became more serious. “What are we going to do? That thing is gonna blow any second, and…” Angel recognized the hardened, determined look in Doyle’s crystal green eyes, and was wondering if he really could prevent his friend’s death. Cordy was watching their conversation, her entire body strained. Angel glanced down at the floor and back into Doyle’s face. If was going to change things, he had to do it now, before Doyle did.
“Listen,” Doyle began. “We need to do something, and I-“ But Angel wasn’t listening. He ran off towards the open part of the catwalk, and made an effortless leap onto the suspended, diamond shaped contraption. As he clung to it, he fumbled for the metallic plate of switches that he had seen while the machine was being demonstrated. Angel pressed down the switches and firmly began to force down the lever that would turn the entire thing off. The light was starting to burn him, ever so slightly. The families underneath him gasped and murmured to themselves, horrified at what could happen to him and to them.
“Angel!” Cordy shrieked, her sable eyes wide. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her clinging to Doyle, who was sweating and had turned an ashen gray. He soon realized the source of her terror. While the burning, dull pain hadn’t gotten any worse in the moments that had passed, he had begun to smoke.
He chanced another look at Cordy and Doyle. Doyle was holding her now, and she wasn’t even close to protesting, as she frightfully kept her eyes on the situation. There’s another thing on my to-do list. I need to get those two together, somehow, Angel thought, wryly, as he pored all of his strength into turning the device off. At long last, the glowing slowly receded and Angel knew that the danger was, for the most part, over. He dropped down into the mass of people on the floor, shivering and limp. The last thing he saw was Doyle hopping over the railing on the catwalk and jogging over to him. Well, I did it. Now what? Angel smirked to himself and knew no more, content enough to allow oblivion to take him over, now that he had accomplished his task.
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