And gratitude, what gratitude do I get for crawling out of my nice warm bed and showing up at the sleazy pit he directed me to? I get PUKED ON!

I almost threw up myself. I smell like shit, I look like shit, and my nice jacket was forever destroyed by . . . I looked down and grimaced. I don’t want to know.

Damn Doyle.

Damn Angel.

Damn them both to Hell.

Oh wait. Hasn’t Angel already been there and back?

Hmm . . . you know what? I don’t care. I don’t care if Angel’s already done the Suffer-for-a-Hundred-Years bit. Damn him anyway.

But maybe I’m being harsh. Hey, he wasn’t the one who ruined my clothes, right?

Besides, Doyle hasn’t done his time, and he’s the one who really deserved to pay . . . grrrrr . . .. Angel, I could deal with. In fact, Angel might get off easy, if he plays his cards right. I’m not an unreasonable person. I’d take a deep breath and calm down a little, and everything will be all better. So he woke me up a little earlier than usual . . . I could take the extra hours to practice my lines for that commercial. Maybe take a shower, or a pre-dawn jog. Yeah, okay. Sounds good. So it’s not Angel I’m mad at, it’s Doyle. Not Angel, Doyle. That’s right. Keep telling myself that and I might just believe it . . .

“Are we there yet?”

I’d kill him myself if he weren’t already dead. Better yet, I’ll stake his undead ass and be done with it. And then I’d behead Doyle, or whatever it takes to kill a half-demon. I don’t believe this.

“Not. Yet.” I said through gritted teeth.

“But . . .”

“Angel. Keep quiet.” The words were harmless enough, but I meant business. The tone of my voice implied a tantrum on my part, and very likely, violence, if he did not heed my words.

He had the sense to listen to me this time. It was a relatively quiet trip home after that.

I pulled the key out of the ignition and climbed out of the car. Without even waiting to see what the two drunken bastards would do to fend for themselves, I headed for the front door. I was about to close it behind me when Angel spoke.

“Um . . . Cor?”

I was still mad at him.

“What?”

“What about me and Doyle?”

I turned around and mentally slapped myself on the forehead. I had forgotten to take them to their respective apartments. Sighing, I started walking back to the vehicle, when a slight breeze blew and I was reminded on why exactly it was absolutely important that I get into my place right here, right now.

I wrinkled my nose. And turned back around. “I need to take a shower,” I said as I quickly walked back to the front door. “Can’t you drive yourselves home or something?” I realized right as the words left my mouth how stupid a question it was. They were in no condition to drive. Doyle was passed out in the back seat and Angel was not exactly Mr. Sobriety himself.

Besides, I didn’t want them to wreck my car.

I sighed, and faced Angel again, feeling like a yoyo, what with the way I kept springing back and forth. “You can both spend the night.”

His face lit up. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” I said shortly, my face contorting as another gust of wind blew my way. Without offering to help Angel lug Doyle up the stairs – or elevator, whichever he preferred – I threw open the door and practically ran up to my apartment.

I unlocked the front door and raced in. “Dennis, we have company,” I told my invisible roommate as I dashed down the hall and into the bathroom.

Slammed the door shut. Stripped off the filthy clothes. Turned on the shower. Stepped in.

The hot steam and hotter water washed over me and pattered onto the tiled floor, taking the dirt and grime (and puke) with it.

I closed my eyes and sighed in pleasure.

Bliss.