**********

"And you know what to do?" Doyle asked Maureen.

She looked at him very patiently. Wesley had asked the same thing less than a minute ago.

"I'll be waiting by his parents' house to make sure no one is leaving, or following you, and if 'anything anything *anything*' happens, I'll call you up. These aren't complicated instructions, Frankie."

"I know they're not. Just follow them. And I'm sorry it had to be you, but..."

"They know what you two look like."

"We wouldn't let you stand there alone, but..."

"There's no one to spare."

He finally shut up and nodded. What really worried him was that Wesley had let slip that there was some sort of Special Operation part of the Council, people more comfortable with an Uzi than with a bag of books. Having his mother as the only thing between those guys and their wanted demon couldn't possibly be a good thing.

"Take care, though?"

He half expected her to roll her eyes, but she didn't. Of course not. She knew as well as he did why he fussed so much.

"Goodbye," she said, hugging him lightly. "Call me when she's out of the country."

"We will."

Once she was gone he sat there biting his nails, waiting for the ten minutes to pass so they could get the hell out of there as planned. Bess gave him a smile that was probably supposed to be reassuring. It would have worked a lot better if she hadn't been pale as a ghost and twirling her fingers.

"I think I love your mother."

Figured she'd say it to him, rather than to her. In some ways, she and Wesley were so similar.

"Yeah, she's fairly amazing." He tried to smile, but found himself glancing at his watch for the twentieth time. Ten minutes finally up. "Can we go now?"

They grabbed their luggage and headed out on the street, and Doyle was eternally grateful never to have to see the inside of *that* hotel again. Sure, he'd been to places a thousand times worse, but at least nobody had asked him to be polite about them. He could feel Wesley's worried glance on the back of his head, but didn't say anything. They were all stressed, damn it, not just him.

Just in case someone slipped past Maureen they weren't meeting Raja at the club, but at a café a few blocks down from it. There were still enough shady alleys and dead ends around to work the whole disappearing-into-another-dimension mojo, however that was supposed to be done.

The bags were heavy to carry, but not unmanageable if you shifted the weight from time to time. The streets in this part of town weren't exactly crowded, but there were more than enough people around to stop them from going three in a row on the pavement. There were pretty people all around, well worth a look, and on the other side of the road Harry came in that pretty blue dress of hers, swaying a little, probably humming a tune like she did when she was happy. She was standing in a corner of their bedroom screaming her lungs out, and he wanted to comfort her, tried so hard, but he didn't know what the hell was going on anymore, and it scared the hell out of him. He pleaded, cried, but she just kept on screaming, and he wanted to scream himself.

"Doyle."

Harry was still screaming, but Harry was also walking down the road, and there was someone holding on to him, shaking him gently.

"Doyle, listen to me. Listen."

And it was just a woman in a blue dress, rounding a corner as he watched. He looked up at Wesley and shook his head slightly at the scowl he saw there. Bad timing. But what was he to do about it?

"Four in two days," Wesley muttered, as if he needed to be reminded. He knew it was only worry, but mother of God, it was irritating.

"I know."

"Fine. The café's over there. Think you can make it that far?"

Teasing was a lot better, and Doyle gave him a playful shove. He could see Raja now, sitting outside the cafe across the road on one of those cracked plastic chairs that were essential to every half-decent eating place on the planet. He was wearing a worn backpack over his coat, and if Doyle could see the outlines of a pair of wings under it, it was only because he knew they were there.

Bess stepped past Doyle and out into the street, where she stopped at the refuge. She didn't say anything, but apparently Raja had seen her anyway, because he turned his head and flashed a white smile at her. As soon as the nearby cars had passed she hurried by, smiling with all her face. Doyle and Wesley followed close behind, but they didn't exist in the larger scheme of things.

"I knew you'd be here," she told her lover, and he, hiding his face in her hair, replied,

"I said so, didn't I?"

**********

"Mummy, why doesn't that man have any ears?"

"Shh!"

"But why doesn't he..."

The mother pulled her little boy away with force, and Raja grinned.

"See what I mean?" he said, and then continued without waiting for an answer, "Anyway, I've called upon a pair of friends. They'll be by soon, and then Elizabeth and I will have a little journey." He lowered his voice. "An interdimensional one."

"So you'll take her to the ethereal dimension?" Wesley asked, not sure if this was an immense honour for his sister or only terrifying. There would be no reaching her by phone, that was for sure.

"Only for the trip, we'll go down in India as soon as possible. I can pass in many places, but the airport X-rays..."

Wesley stocked that information in the back of his head for future reference, along with the odd looks that Raja got but that never seemed to lead to anything . He was aware that his expression was so transparent he might as well have been taking notes, but he ignored both Doyle's apparent amusement and Bess's annoyance.

"So you'll be out of here within an hour?" he asked.

"Or less. That should be enough, shouldn't it?"

Wesley and Doyle looked at each other.

"It's just the thing with these visions," Doyle explained, "that they tend to come true."

"So if she saw a guy shoot me," Raja spread his arms, "I'm shot?"

"Not necessarily," Wesley hurried to say. "But it's definitely a risk we'll have to take into consideration."

It was only then he realised that Bess had fallen very quiet, which was unlike her. Her eyes were fixed upon something across the road.

"Bess?"

"Look!" she hissed, and he followed her gaze, in time to see the young man cross the road and draw something from his khaki jacket.

"Oh, dear God, Stephen!"

Wesley froze, trying to calculate the threat. It was almost impossible to think Stephen could ever shoot anyone, even a demon. He'd been expecting a trained Watcher, not a scorned boy next door. But Cordelia had gotten a vision, and that meant the threat was real. All in all, the best thing to do was to step in front of the others. He knew Stephen would stop to think before attempting to shoot *him*.

"Okay, uhm..." Why couldn't he come up with something snappy to say? Or at the very least something coherent would be nice. But this was Stephen the human puppy dog, not any of the innumerable demons he had gotten used to. People around had stopped to stare, but didn't start crying for the police as you might expect, probably not sure if this was reality or some sort of performance art.

"Step away," Stephen said, probably trying to sound warning. What a mess.

"No, I won't. This is ridiculous. Stephen, he's not what you think..."

"Oh really?" He raised the gun. "I'm not so sure."

"What about me?" Bess had stepped up next to Wesley and held her shaking arms out like a human crucifix. "I'm the one who lied to you, and cheated on you, and got you involved in all this mess. Aren't you mad at me?"

"Yes." But he didn't for one second take his eyes off the tall demon that his gun was pointing at. "You're a damned fool, Bess, you always were. Always had to do things that were bad for you and hope for someone to come and save you."

That wasn't entirely untrue, Wesley had to admit, but it certainly wasn't something to punish an innocent person for, either. And Stephen hadn't been indoctrinated by the Council to quite the same degree as everyone else in his insane home, he should be able to take reason. Except, of course, that among the things he *would* have picked up was "demons bad" and a gun that could very well be enchanted, and why wouldn't people around *do* something? This was a gun, not a vampire, no reason to treat it like it couldn't be real.

"He's part Muse," Wesley said in the desperate hope that this might make a difference, but Stephen had steadied his hand in a way that indicated he was about to pull the trigger.

Taking hold of Stephen's arms he heard the gunshot, vaguely aware of the fact that he was right in front of the muzzle, and then he felt a familiar pain in the stomach. Oh hell, not again. He heard Stephen say "holy shit" in a very small voice, but was too preoccupied with sinking to the ground to pay much attention. Something smelled funny, but he couldn't figure out what. Doyle was holding his hand and Raja examining his wound, while Bess was standing out of sight hollering off the top of her lungs:

"Now you shot my brother! Happy, you bastard? Why isn't anyone calling the police?"

Doyle's hand was still caressing his, but he made a sudden grimace that was half-humorous.

"I could think of a reason."

And that's when Wesley saw that Raja had ripped his wings right through the backpack so that they now formed a feathery ceiling over the three of them.

"Sorry about that," Raja said sheepishly. "I got a bit upset."

He finally stopped poking around the wound. "You're lucky. It only hit a rib." Looking up, he asked, "Do you have anything to apply to it?"

"Yeah, sure." Doyle hurried to take off his jacket - his *good* jacket, the one that didn't even look second-hand - and rolled it into a ball with the lining on the outside. He pressed it down to the wound. It hurt. And apparently it hurt Doyle as well, because he snatched his hand aside and stared at the stains of Wesley's blood as if they had been acid.

"What the *hell* was that?"

Things finally clicked in Wesley's head. That smell. "The old sulphur spell again, I'm afraid."

"God, I should have known." Doyle breathed out between his teeth, and then looked up at Raja. "But then why weren't you affected?"

Raja seemed confused. "Why would I be?"

And suddenly Wesley realised which spell his father had been using. It had troubled him before, because an anti-demonic spell is most definitely useful, and someone should have told him about it. And they had, a long time ago. It was one of innumerable spells that would keep low level demons away while doing nothing about the really dangerous ones. Straining flies and swallowing camels.

"He must have thought you were a partbreed. Which you're most definitely not. It's the Muse side, it looks human. I think father assumed you were a lot less powerful than you really are."

"So you think your father is behind this?"

"I don't think 'The Beige Avenger' is something that sprung from Stephen's brain, that's for sure," Bess said, sitting down under the wings. "He ran away, the poor wuss. Was it enchanted?"

"Quite a bit," Wesley said wryly. He was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded. "But it doesn't affect humans or fullbloods, so as long as I don't bleed all over Doyle - can you help me up, please?"

Raja pulled him to standing position and attempted to keep him steady. He looked around, seeing the wide circle around them where nobody dared to step, and at some distant horrified, fascinated people.

"Do you think there's any chance we could still pretend this is performance art?"

A loud "whoosh" made him look to the left and see a large green demon. Before he could make out its exact features, a similar sound came from the right. This demon was deep purple.

Bess smirked. "Somehow I doubt it."

"Raja," the demons said, bowing down on the ground. "Rani. We are ready to take you away."

"Well, we're not!" Raja looked helplessly at his bride-to-be, and then at Wesley, who shook his head impatiently.

"Unless I'm mistaken, you're not a doctor. And I've certainly been hurt worse than this. You get going, and I'll find a hospital."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, it would certainly be easier for me to get sewn up if I weren't in the company of three demons."

"Four with Doyle," Bess pointed out.

"Five with your baby, but that's less than apparent, isn't it?" His head was now so light he would have laughed if it hadn't hurt too much. "Now, get going!"

Raja sought Bess's approval, and she nodded slightly. "All right. I'll call you when we get there."

"Do that."

She put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Don't bleed out on me now."

"Are you ready, Rani?" the purple demon asked.

She took a step back. "Yes, thank you, Bansi."

"Hold on to the Raja."

Four whooshes later, Doyle and Wesley were alone.

"Well, that was interesting," Wesley muttered, trying not to panic at the thought of his sister going across the world in the ethereal dimension.
Doyle held on to his shoulders, careful not to touch the wound, but didn't answer. He was too busy looking around, a dazed expression on his face.

"I don't believe this."

"What?" And then he saw what Doyle was referring to. People were just walking along, minding their own business, as if nothing had happened at all. A few seemed somewhat exited, but no more than they would have been if it had really all been an act. He smiled, knowing that Raja had been right in his assessment of what humans would notice. "Doyle, before you found out about your demon side, would you have thought it possible that three demons could come from nowhere and snatch away a young girl?"

"Hardly."

"Well then. If it isn't possible, it can't have happened."

Doyle shook his head. "People are idiots."

"Some people are idiots. Other people are doctors. Do you mind taking me to one of the latter kind?"

A slender arm slipped in behind his back to hold him steady. "Not at all."

**********

"So she's all right, then?" Maureen asked in a low voice on the bus to Liverpool.

Five minutes after Doyle picked up a phone she had arrived in the emergency room, ready to take on any doctor who gave Wesley less than exemplary care. It had taken half an hour before she accepted that the wound wasn't very serious, and much longer before they had managed to convince her that he didn't need to stay the night. Not until now had she asked about Bess.

Somehow this warmed Wesley. Obviously, his thoughts were a jumble of facts, with Bess somewhere on top and "ouch" interfering at regular intervals, but it felt good that Maureen cared enough to put everything else on hold. Even Doyle had been concerned with other things, such as whether or not they had to cancel their tickets home. Regular brushes with danger had made them both awfully pragmatic.

"She is," Doyle said. "Some friends of Raja's picked her up. Intimidating looking fellows, but they seemed nice enough."

"That's good." She sat silent for a while, and then admitted in a by-the-way manner, "I'm going to miss her."

Wesley smiled. It was always like that. Bess could drive anyone crazy, but she tended to leave an impression. Finding yourself without her was like getting rid of your alarm clock, you kept waking up at six thirty expecting it to ring.

"I know. Me too."

"I always wanted a daughter."

Doyle's head jerked up, and if it had been possible, his eyes would have popped out like a cartoon character's. "Wow. Nice to know that."

Since it was quite clear that Maureen wasn't having a moment of regret, Wesley rolled his eyes. Whatever issues Maureen could have had, her child's gender was probably not one of them. Obviously, that could be the reason Doyle chose to react on it.

"Well, I did. Nothing wrong with sons, but it would have been nice with a girl."

"Oh, I get it. That's why you were always so keen on Harry."

Suddenly the banter wasn't all that amusing anymore. Wesley didn't normally mind the Harry thing. So Doyle had been married. He wasn't married now. It had been practically a non-issue between them, and he hadn't stopped to think that maybe it wasn't for Maureen. Even if she was okay with him being a man, she might not be okay with him not being Harry.

And then she looked straight at him, with a quirk of her eyebrow that was familiar by association. She diverted her gaze almost immediately, instead smiling sweetly at her son.

"Harry is a very nice girl. She always calls me on my birthday, for one thing. But you know what?"

She leaned in, and Doyle did, too.

"What?"

"I think Wesley is better for you."

Two white smiles headed in his direction, and he looked down. The burning in his chest wasn't only due to the wound. He appreciated what they were trying to do, but he didn't intend to get sappy about it.

"Hey," Doyle whispered in his ear, making it uncomfortably hot, but that was okay. "I think my mum likes you."

He smiled. Maybe he was a sap. "My mum likes you too."

"And you really hate that, don't you?"

His ear tickled at Doyle's laughter, and he put up a hand in defence against more hot breath. "Yes. I do."

And it was true, in part, but he also felt oddly comforted about it. In a very messed up way, it resembled actual family relations.

**********

EPILOGUE

*Quit playing Hamlet, my son. Your kind stepfather isn't the King of Denmark, I'm not Queen Gertrude, and this isn't Elsinor Castle, no matter how dreary it looks.*

Doyle had been the one to switch on the TV, but right after an unbelievably charming display of a Christmas celebration Maureen had called, and now Wesley sat alone watching an increasingly troubling film that according to the TV guide wasn't about to end any time soon.

"Yeah, you too. Uh-huh. I'll tell him that. Give my best to everyone. Bye."

Doyle finally hung up and came back to the living room, sitting down on the sofa, legs kicked up in Wesley's lap.

"You're paying that phone bill," Wesley said, not taking his eyes off the set.

"Of course. Do you know what mum's saying?"

"What?" Usually, Doyle's conversations with his mother could be very interesting, but he wanted to *see* this film.

"That you should get the weight of the world off your shoulders." Taking his feet down, Doyle moved closer and put his hand in a strategic place. "But I think you just need someone to turn you into stone."

Someone had been reading up on his mythology. The timing was less than arousing, though, and Wesley just brushed the hand away. "Doyle, *please*. Need I remind you that you were the one who turned on this film?"

"Yeah, but..." Doyle sat back, leaning on his heels. "Do you really like it that much?"

"I hate it. But I want to see it."

He half expected Doyle to take this as an oxymoron, but he got no argument, only an exasperated sigh and a head in his lap. Doyle's dark hair was perfect to rest your hand in when your mind was occupied elsewhere.

The phone rang, which made the hair leave his lap and head into the kitchen with the rest of Doyle. Wesley sighed, but if he was disappointed, he was also a bit relieved that he wasn't the one supposed to answer the damned thing.

"Hang on... Wes? For you."

Apparently he'd been counting his blessings too soon. "Can't you take a message?"

"I have a feeling you want to hear this."

There was something about Doyle's face that made him rise, with one last glimpse at the set, and head out without hesitation or desire to stay. "Watch it for me."

"Okay."

He picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi there."

The moment he heard the voice he knew why Doyle had wanted him to take this personally, even though Doyle could hardly have known it himself. Not for sure, at least, but it *had* been more than eight months. "Bess. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you. And so is Arati. You're an uncle, Wes."

He wasn't going to cry. He was not. "I am?"

"She's the most beautiful thing in the world. She's got little wings that are all ruffled, and eyes as blue as a kitten's, although Raja says that'll change. She's got my nose, though. And ears, she has those."

"That's nice. Congratulations." He couldn't think of any good things to say. "And her name is Arati?"

"Rani Arati. Rani in case she's the next Gandharva Queen, although knowing my lack of musical ear I doubt it. And Arati means 'hymns sung in praise of God'. I picked it from a list."

"It's a lovely name."

"I thought so." Her voice was getting muffled. "Goodness, I'm all weepy here, you wouldn't believe it."

"Oh yes, I would." He paused for a moment, and then asked, "Bess, are you sure you're all right? India isn't exactly a safe place."

"I'm not actually in India. Well, I am right now, but only to make the call. We moved to the ethereal plane when the troubles started. Thinking about getting a flat somewhere more down to earth though."

"I can recommend Los Angeles."

"For spiritual music? I'm not so sure. Listen, I have to hang up soon... how are you and Doyle?"

"We're fine. You're not about to become an aunt."

"Your humour only gets worse with age. Seriously, are you okay?"

Wesley watched his lover, who half-reclined on the sofa watching the film with reluctant interest. That charming sprite of a man, with more quirks and corners to his two sides than Wesley could ever hope to explore. A pain to be with at times, but worth it, every second of the day.

"I'll get back to you on that one."

**********

THE END

**********