It’s almost dark in a Los Angeles city street. Street lights are on leaving wide, bright searchlight pools on the sidewalk. There’s a man running down the street. He is sweating. This man looks over his shoulder briefly. Who-ever-is-chasing-him must be bent on this; as the man looks like he had been running for quite a while. His breathing is fast.

    Who is chasing this man?

      Far behind him is Dean Dexter.

  The man’s heart is racing: thump la dump da dup.

  “Somebody HELP!” The man screams. But to his dismay there isn’t a soul out there to help.

 He takes a small flip phone from his pocket, that had folded paper hanging lose from the flip-phone’s corner.

 “Doyle.” The man reads aloud what is below the phone number.

The man had never thought he would come across a name like this.

 “I…Don’t know…” The man reads the name below the phone number. “Who..this..Doyle figure is but he’s gotta help me!...And he…needs to…know!”

Dean is catching up.

“213-555-6189…” He ran into a closed, unlocked store.  The man presses  ‘call’ and puts the phone to his ear. “Please answer.”

 The scene transitions to Doyle’s hand feeling around on the desk for his ringing phone.

Ring ring ring.

 Doyle grabs the phone from the desk and puts it to his ear.

 “Give a good reason ta call me at night.” Doyle sounds tired.

 “Are you Doyle?” The man on the other end asks.

“Uh…” Doyle combs through his hair. “Yes.”

“I’m really, really scared.” The man on the other end said.

“Dis is really awkward for me.” Doyle said. “Now tell me why ya called me!”

 The man looks through blinds.

 “I’m being chased by this cold blooded freaky man.” The man said. “I…I am an Identity thief.  I stole…some clothes from this man’s house. Your phone number was in the flip phone..”

 Doyle groans, feeling tired enough he wanted to fall back asleep.

 “Sorry, I can’t help ya sleep deprived.” Doyle said. “Call Angel Investigation—“

Dean is headed his way.

 “He’s coming after you.” The man said.

Doyle had already started to put the phone away from his ear.

“You got his message?”

Doyle blinks a few times.

 “Who is dis?” Doyle manages to say/. 

 It’s been a week. Doyle thought. How can he be healed so fast?

 “Franklin Hardeson Ellioet.” The Man said, and then hid behind a counter. “I’m sorry. But you have to get outta town man. He came up to me and said ‘I’m coming after your friend Doyle through his friends, you are the first.’ And made me run for an hour. Keep your friends closer and enemies far away.”

  Dean throws his axe at The Man.

-B-b-beeeep.

 “Did..dat…really?” Doyle contemplates it, but then puts down his phone and goes back to sleep.

     ------------------------------------ ---------------------------------------- ------------------------------

Cordelia’s apartment…

Cordelia feels scared. The sirens and officers being in the same scene makes her skin crawl. It felt as though she was re-experiencing when Angel left Sunnydale. Except this feels different in some way… she turned her head to see Doyle where Angel should be. Her heart races seeing him. Doyle turns,  and then  walks away from Cordelia, just like Angel did when he left Buffy.

“Take care of her,”  Cordelia recalls an earlier comment in her dream. It sounded like Wesley’s voice.  “Doyle.”

Wesley and Angel came to her.

“Where did he go?” Wesley asks firs.

“He—eh…he left!” Cordelia begins crying. Why am I crying? Cordelia didn’t understand why she is, but… Cordelia is crying in the midst of things.

Wesley looks towards where Doyle had been.

“He went that way?” Wesley asks.

Cordelia nods.

 “Has Doyle gone nuts already?” Angel did not sound pleased what he is saying. “Facing them himself; he's lost it. Cordelia, we’ll be right back.”

Wesley and Angel ran after him.

“DOYLE!” Cordelia shouts, racing forward from her bed.

Dennis holds a phone for Cordelia.

 “I don’t need Dr.Phill.”  Cordelia said, with a yawn.  Dennis puts the phone back into the receiver. She falls back on the bed. “I  do not understand…my dreams.”

________________________________________________________

24 hours later…

The doorway in to the store had been chopped into pieces. Part of the closed sign is in half. The door knob (that people used every day until now) is unrecognizable and to be frank it is in many pieces. A blue rug is stained in blood. The glass is everywhere below and around the threshold. The store is a complete mess at the front. Across the doorway is a tarp covering a dead body.

“Who’s our victim?” Kate asks, standing away from the body. She is holding a cup of coffee in her right hand. It’s one of those ordinary days for Kate to be investigating a human crime. Not all her cases were supernatural oriented.  She takes a drink from her morning coffee as though it’s something casual.

The yellow tape and police officers are what kept a crowd of people from messing the crime scene up.

 “Jefferson McCoy,” The ME said, taking off his gloves. He picks up a bottle of open water and takes a drink from it. He gulps down a sip.  “He was chopped.”

 Kate puts her coffee cup on the table.

  “Liver chopped?” She and another detective take a step back, as a man comes through the back door.

  Another cop looks up from an isle in the junk food section watching the Man come straight up to the body..

 “No!” The ME rubs his eyes. “His body is chopped to pieces. I am no expert but…the amount of blood on his hands says the killer did it when his victim was alive.”

This man is no other than Doyle.

 “And why  is he in the crime scene?” The cop in the food section isle points out.

Dole uncovers the dead body(At the head), and then covers his nose smelling what the tarp had been over.

 “Dis is not Jefferson McCoy.” Doyle said, in a muffled voice as he let go of the cover.

 Kate and the Cops realized just then Doyle is in the crime scene.

 “How the hell did you get into my crime scene?” Kate asks, in her most authority-furious voice. Her attitude today is not the best moods at all.

Doyle stands up.

 “What crime scene?” Doyle asks, looking around innocently. He  changes his direction towards the threshold and then back to Kate. “I don’t see any Crime Scene Tape.”

 The cop, Wilson Mongroe, rubs his forehead.

 “I’ll get that…” Wilson goes out the door and heads to the vehicle where the yellow tape is usually stored in.

Kate is giving Doyle one of her ‘Explain why you are here’ glare.

 “He’s a buddy of mine, and this is no Jefferson.” Doyle said, slowly shaking his head. He turns away from the crowd of civilians. People are taking pictures using cameras. A picture is taken of Doyle. “Dis is someone else. He’s an Identity thief.”

Kate decides to tempt Doyle with a question.

 “How do you know?”

“Dah man called me.” Doyle tells her. “His real name is Franklin Hardeson Ellioet…Dat’s really long.”

The ME goes out the door. If they are going to get the body out of the crime scene then they will need a stretcher, a tarp, and some other ME’s who have the stomach to put chopped body parts on the stretcher. Doyle puts on a mask that usually a Doctor would put on when around someone contagious.

“He doesn’t smell that bed.” Kate states.

 Doyle’s face is ‘You-are-lucky-to-be-human’. Brachens have excellent smell.

“If you could kill anyone in the entire world, who would it be?  Kate then asks him.

"If I could kill anyone in dah entire world…” Doyle mutters, getting a start on his answer. He had to figure out a way not to let Kate in what Angel really is. But the question gave Doyle some sort of feeling that felt right to say what must be said. He looks down.  “I wouldn’t do dat.”

Kate puts her hand on the edge of her gun.

 “You are lying.”  Kate said.

A detective could hear Doyle chuckle even when they are searching for other evidence.

He laughs.

 “Not lyin’ ta ya.” Doyle waves his hands.

And then he continues.

 “It's not right, especially murderin’ non-demon people.” He could see confusion on Kate’s face. It’s obvious he caught her off guard. “But if it has ta  be done… ten I'll  have my friend Angel do dah dirty work.” Doyle looks up from the floor to see Kate quite puzzled. “If he can't do it ten I'll have ta do it...It'll be hard. But keepin’ a secret from someone ya love is harder tan it seems, when ya don't want ta hurt tem.”

“Non-Demon…people?” Kate is starting to believe Angel and Doyle have gone to lunatic-vile.

Doyle nods.

“Yes.” He watches Wilson Mongroe step back inside the building. “I am not crazy. Dat’s what ya need ta know."

Kate is not going to follow what he say, anyway.

"And ya shouldn’t get involved," Doyle warns her. "A human did not kill dis man.”

----------------- ---------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------

 ....Doyle’s apartment...

  ...9:49 AM...

Wesley shuts the door behind him.

“So, ya tellin’ me dis in private,” Doyle said, his feet up on the recliner stretcher. “And  ya tellin’ someone who’s kind of shady.”

Wesley sat in a chair.

“Doyle, if a vampire hunter  from sunnydale--someone that is not Buffy--comes looking for me and I’m gone...”

Doyle has a laugh at his friend’s worrying.

“If dat did happen; dis vampire hunter would know. “ Doyle said. “News travels fast dese days.”’

Wesley puts his hands together, shaking his head.

“So, who’s dis Vampire Hunter ya tellin’ me about?”’

“Faith Lehane.” Wesley said. “In a way...Faith is Buffy’s opposite; different background...and doesn’t like Angel.”

In a way Doyle could tell something is fishy about this. But it was not quite right.  “Dere’s somethin’ dat happened ta her and she isn’t here because of dat, but ya tellin’ me...Why?”

   “You need to know.”

   Doyle raises an eyebrow at him.

“And?”

   “She would need help, other than being cooped up in jail. She’s got a good heart...But things just spiral out of control for her.”

   A lightbulb went off in Doyle’s head.

 “She’s going through the juvenile phrase?”

  “It’s a bit rougher than that.”

  Doyle flips down the lever and the couch recliner went down.

  “Tell me.”

Wesley explains to Doyle about Faith.

“...Was she on anythin’?” Doyle asks, as he rubs his chin.

Wesley shook his head.

     “And Doyle; she may not believe I am not around for her to use as a torturing....doll.” Wesley shudders at the mention. “It’ll be hard, but killing her won’t be the solution. Death isn’t always the answer for a girl like her.”

    Then Doyle understood Wesley was warning him, ahead of time.

“Wesley, stop with dah worrywart act, ya not goin’ ta die.” Doyle assures him. He has something to tell Wesley. “Wesley, I havta tell ya dat Dean’s... ”

   “On a cruise to The Bahamas?”

 “On a murderin’ spree; killing dose people outside of Angel Investigations who are close ta me.”

      ....1: 34 PM...

 ....Angel Investigations..

“Cordelia, do ya ever wonder if we have doppelgangers out  there?”

Cordelia puts a big plant in the corner across from the main door.

 “Everyone has their counterparts in this world,” Cordelia tells him.  “I am going to play a one episode role for Law & Orderrrrr!” She is chippery and bright. Cordelia  got a make up bag from her desk drawer.

 “...Princess isn’t dat too much make up?”

Cordelia laughs, zipping up the dark bag.

“Nothing is!” Cordelia bubbles.

Doyle hands a stake out to her.

“Take dis for protection.”

Cordelia raises an eyebrow at him.

“Doyle... if I take this on set with me, people will get confused.” Cordelia tells him, her eyebrow lowers to it’s original position. “Speaking of which; is there something going on with dat Dexter character?” Her eyes sparkle. “OH, one step for acting an Irish accent!”

Cordelia does a air pump.

“It’s cause I don’t want ya ta be unarmed when he comes.” Doyle puts the stake on the desk. “I havta make a call.”

Doyle goes outside and dials a phone number.

“Who is Doyle talking about?...” Cordelia looks over to Wesley reading a book on the couch. She waves her hand up and down. “Wessleeyy!”

“What?” Wesley looks up from his book.

“Doyle just acted weird, do you know something I don’t?”

“Cordelia,” Wesley puts book down on his lap.. “People that are close to Doyle are Dean’s targets.”

....Outside Angel Investigations...

Doyle calls Jefferson’s phone number.

 “Come on…Come on…”  Doyle taps his foot.

Ring ring ring rring.

Jefferson picks up the phone, getting out the shower.

“Hullo?” Jefferson said, over the phone. “Oh Doyle, it’s you. You are the only Irish man  I know who calls in the morning.”

 Doyle  chuckles at that.

 “Get outta town.”

Jefferson is startled on the other end,wrapping a towel around his head.

 “What?” Jefferson proceeds to brush his teeth.

“Get outta town, man.” Doyle goes on. “A thief was killed in your place; even though he was your doppelgänger….Ya need ta get out of dah city.”

“I just got out the shower.” Jefferson holds his tooth brush. “You are not making sense.”

 Doyle sighs, looking up to the ceiling.

“Dean Dexter. Know about him?”

 Jefferson is staring at the mirror, his jaw is almost dropped but he drops his tooth brush.

“DOYLE, WHAT DAH HELL DID YOU GET YOURSELF IN?” Jefferson screams; Doyle takes the phone away from his ear.  “THAT IS THE MOST SLOW-PAINFUL KILLING DEMON IN HISTORY. WHAT DAH HECK DID YOU DO TO TICK HIM OFF?”

 Doyle puts the phone back to his ear.

 “I used ta have a bounty on my head.” Doyle said. “I took care of dat. But he’s taken it a step further.”

Jefferson  brushes his teeth quickly, and then he begins packing his bags.

 “I expect he’s going after everyone you know , right?”  Jefferson asks,  zipping his backpack. He got on a hoody, shirt, lounging pants, wrist bands, and put his ear piercings on.  He has a tattoo under his mouth right above his chin.

“Yes.”

“Nice knowing you, and don’t try finding me, Francis.”

…China….

….11: 49 PM...

There’s a street at night where few people bother walking down. Perhaps the best way to say is; the sound of men running through the street sets its own scene alone. Shouts are heard from two boys. Cats that had been curled up then run away into an alley. The first man that looks like twenty three year old comes running through.

 “Come on, Floyd!” The first man shouts to the man behind him. He looks Chinese. But his friend doesn’t look that way as Floyd looks quite American.

He steps on a cat’s tail.

Y-Y-Y-YOWL

The Cat screetches and swipes at the man’s pant leg.

 “I’m comin’ Andrew!” Floyd shouts, as they were running from some cops through the street. He has an Irish accent like Doyle in Los Angeles.

 “This is the last time you’ll be running!” An Officer shouts running after them.

Floyd has a similar hair style as Doyle, except he has light brown hair and a lighter tone of green eyes.

“Floyd, where should we go this time?” Andrew asks.

Andrew trips over a discarded chair.

“Hold it!” The officer (Let’s just give him an English name) Harry  Office shouts, holding up his gun first.

Floyd skids to a halt. His skin turns into prickly green fur , small black thorns appear on his forehead; his small precious eyes turn blue. Floyd’s ears slightly become elf-sized but bear a definite shape to rabbit ears Andrew on the other hand has a gray shirt and brown pants, with sneakers. Andrew holds a bundle of ‘do-not-steal-‘supernatural objects in his hands.

 “What the hell...” Harry’s friend Franisco lowers his gun at Floyd.

Floyd has a smile that most criminals wouldn’t do.

 “Boo.”

 Harry ran away from the scene, shouting to the other officers about a ‘Demon on  the loose’.

“Hold your hands up,” Francisco said, raises his gun up.

Andrew and Floyd share a ‘lets-teach-him-a-lesson’ look.

“Why don’t you just die?” Andrew said, his face became different. It's best to say his face has become like a vampire. He shows his wide, small vampire fangs. The ridges above Andrew’s eyes raised forward. Andrew’s face looks entirely different except for his hair that is.

Floyd and Andrew  attack Francisco; Floyd and Andrew beat the cop up. Andrew finished him off by draining his blood. It was a refresher for Andrew who usually didn’t enjoy this luxury. It’s because many people are aware what he is and even the demons who work with him.Demons had seen the similarities to him and Angel; that’s when they saw something.

Now…They wind up getting chased by even more cops.

 Floyd looks over his shoulder.

He smelled an apartment where a dead lady is at.

 “Here!” Floyd proclaims, skidding to a halt at a wooden, latched door.

Floyd rolls his right eye.

 “I’m using thumper power, again.” Floyd took his boot off.

Then Floyd kicks the door.

F--f-fram

The door flew open; Floyd hops in as he puts his puffy, small rabbit-human feet back in the boot.  “Come on, Andy!” Floyd called in Andrew by his nickname. “This is breaking and entering.”He hated being a vampire for this.  Vampire had its perks and cons. This is just one of them. “I can’t go in without consent.”

 Floyd rolls his eyes.

“Andrew…” Floyd rubs his forehead. “The lady’s dead.”

Andrew came in and Floyd shut the door behind him.

S—sshut.

The police officers rush by.

 “Sweet! She has a computer!” Floyd gets on the computer. He browses on the internet; Adrew puts down the equipment they stole on the table.

For being a man who doesn’t use the computer a lot,Andrew thought as he spread out the weapons on the table. Floyd sounds happy to use the computer.  Andrew contemplates over his friends contradictory comments. The blade that once stabbed him in the back was no stranger to Andrew’s hands when he observes. I know him quite well, but. He has some secrets in there.

Floyd gasps, raising his hand up from the computer mouse.

“Andrew!” Floyd calls out. “Ya might want ta see dis.”

Andrew walks over to the Computer

“Dis guy looks like meee.” Floyd points at the online-surfaced image of Doyle looking at the crowd.

Andrew had to blink his eyes a couple just to focus on the man’s face.

 “We look alike.” Floyd said.

Andrew’s face subsides from its vampire face to the human one.

“No wonder demons have been calling you ‘Doyle’.” Andrew said, standing upright.

Floyd raises his left eyebrow.

 “Who?”

Andrew turns his direction away from Floyd listening to the sound of footsteps from upstairs. He is facing towards the weapons. He walks towards that direction. He stops at a bow and arrow version of a vampire kit. Andrew picks it up at Floyd’s eye level. Floyd hadn’t morphed from his demon form for quite a while. 

Floyd’s left eyebrow went down.

Andrew holds up his index finger.

“Allen Francis Doyle.” Andrew finally said, looking in the dark hallway.  “Demons know his name. But rumors have it he’s half Lekochan.”

   Floyd snorts at this.

 “Poor man; I’m dah only Lekochen around here, anyhow.” Floyd said, shaking his head.   “Uh huh.” He didn’t sound convinced that a man named ‘Doyle’ was rumored to be a Lekochen. Floyd folds both his arms on top of another. He puts his feet on the edge of the desk. “What about ya, Mr-I-love-chaos?”

“…Or he is your doppelgänger.” Andrew finishes his thought aloud, turning away from the dark hallway.

Floyd rubs his chin.

 “We look alike; doesn’t mean we are twins or somethin’…” Floyd said, unfolding his arms.

“Floyd let’s make this our base with equipment for unwanted vamps.” Andrew said, holding his hands up like he is holding up a poster board. “The Crew; only for the men who mess around the law enforcement…At night!”

 Floyd is worried.

 “Isn’t  dat sexist?” Floyd points out a flaw.

 Andrew bit his lip.

 “Bein’ evil does not involve dat.” Floyd huffs. “It’s when ya want somethin’ separates ya from an ambition and ya have ta do some bad stuff ta get it. Ya just bein’ mean dere, Andy. Ya been alive for—what? 158 years,” Floyd shook his head. “And ya don’t know dah difference between evil and mean, Andy!”

 Andrew sends a ‘don’t-push-your-buttons’ warning glare.

 “Some Vamp’s I know have it.” Andrew said.

“Funny for a vampire ta  be sayin’ dat.” Floyd said. “Don’t kill me for dat. Okay?”

 “Why would I do such a thing for my partner in crime…” Andrew said, in a way that is different from Angel. Andrew does not have a soul. He has been alive for 158 years as a vampire.  And he has not come across gypsies in his life.

They hear someone in the hallway.

That someone is Cornelia Lase.

“Stop what you are doing!” The young woman said, with her dark hair up in a bun. She is holding up a shot gun. She is a Chinese counterpart to her American counterpart.

Floyd saw potentenial in Cornelia; but is not interested in her.

 “Andy…are ya thinkin’ what I am thinkin’?” Floyd said rather than ask as he got up from the chair.

Andrew cracks his knuckles.

“I sure do.” Andrew said, taking a step forward.

Floyd saw potential in Cornelia to be become a prominent, skilled thief.

“Step back!” Cornelia shouts, pointing the shot gun at Andrew. “I am not scared to use this!”

Andrew shares a nod with Floyd.

F—f-flip.

The lights go off.  Andrew quickly overpowers the woman and ties her up on a chair.

“Let me go!” Cornelia screeches.

  Floyd flips the lights on.

“You—AHHH WHAT ARE YOU?” Cornelia saw Floyds’s Leckochen’s face. She is horrified to see Floyd. “LET ME LOOSE. I DO NOT like demons!”

Floyd turns the computer screen off.

“Demons are awful, disgusting and not-trust worthy.” Cornelia continues.

Floyd smiles calmly; eerily similar to Doyle’s take before he attacked Dean.

“Name?” Floyd questions her, with his arms folded.

“Let.me.go.” Cornelia  repeats her demand.

“Your name,” Andrew said, with a growl. His face morphs into a vampire face.

“Co-c-cornelia Lase!” She finally said.

Floyd comes closer to Cornelia.

“Floyd, whatever you are thinking—“ Andrew starts to say but Floyd morphs into his human form walking in front of her and begins talking.

“If ya want ta live, ya should join us givin’ dah police department a nightmare.” Floyd said, his eyes made Cornelia fearless. Those eyes are like those that belong to a man who knows his way around people. “It’s an offer. If ya don’t accept…ten ya dead.”

“…I have to think about this.” Cornelia softly said. Her body is trembling. She is afraid.

Andrew can smell fear coming from the small woman’s body.

“Don’t think too long.” Andrew warns her.  “Or else, I am drinking your blood.”