It was a dark night as Cordelia Chase strode down the Los Angeles streets. She was on her way home. Her friends Angel and Doyle were doing their own thing unless, of course, Doyle had a vision. Then they would be killing some pesky supernatural creature or saving someone or both. If they were doing their own thing,
Doyle would be at home or drinking Scotch at the bar. Angel would be alone in his dungeon.
She stopped, as he went to stand beside her.
They walked beside each other.
"Now what do I owe of this visit with your horrible taste in fashion sense?" she asked Doyle.
"I can't jus' come walk you home?" he asked her back.
She smiled.
"What a White Knight," she commented.
In the end, he walked her home and she said her good-nights, as well did he, before closing the door afore him. They knew now that they had feelings for each other. The kind that gave you butterflies in your stomach. They had even kissed which neither had wanted to depart from but had to so she could get to bed and call it a night until next time. It did scare her, though. It meant moving on from the one guy she would always love. Xander Lavelle Harris.
