Really? Thanks. I just needed the Munchkin to bore the piss out of some California nymphette with his philosophy...I just couldn't send him all the way to LA and have that not happen. It would be a waste. And he hasn't bitched about anything for ages...although that is no surprise with all of The Sex I've given him. I've been a very generous, and mostly benign PTB in that regard. And I so want to hire Victor to just write entertaining drabbles. But I can't.Unless you want to be paid in potato chips or something.

Unless you want to be paid in potato chips or something.

Well, I've certainly worked for less...

Aw...But I'd be a bad patron without The Cash, I think.

Aw...But I'd be a bad patron without The Cash, I think.

Certainly never stopped some of the folks I've freelanced for.

I'm doing that right now, and it's NFG. They really do rule, though.

I'm doing that right now, and it's NFG.

Oh, it has its moments, I'll admit. Some of my best writing was freelance, and it's certainly taken me to some places I'd never have gone otherwise, but on the whole, I'm happy to be away from it for awhile.

They really do rule, though.

Blush.

Thank ya.

I used to think I was good at writing short too, but now I don't even remember what page I'm on, so nsm.

“You don’t have to get so bent about it. How’d you make that dog? Is he animatronic?”

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

You evil wife, you. I have garlic mashed potatoes up my nose.

Victor, considering the years I worked with, hung with and otherwise dealt with the Dead, I don't know whether I want to write it (because if I did, I'd have them targeting Owsley moments before the New Orleans bust), or flee.

Victor, you make me feel sorry for poor, rat-eating Angel.

crap, it has been a long time since I've posted anything. Anyway, the last of the Angel scene, then one more section before the first fic of the new series is done. Then the really twisted fun begins. Anyway, Angel's been spying on Spike in his new HQ in Sunnydale.

He headed back through the decaying buildings towards the car. Halfway there, he caught the scent of humans. Four of them, all male, no longer young. No one he recognized. He changed direction to intercept one that was on his own.

The man with the crossbow that he found smelled of tea and beer, and nervousness. Angel made sure to kick a pebble before moving any closer. The man turned in his direction, crossbow reading.

"Easy, easy, just me," Angel said, stepping closer with his hands up.

"Just you, eh?" said the man, with an English accent. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Englishmen with crossbows near a vampire's lair. Now, whoever could this be? Angel made sure his smile looked harmless. "I'm a detective from L.A. I'm up here tracing a stolen car."

The man frowned. "A stolen car? Here?"

"Which I spotted down there." He nodded towards the occupied building.

More footsteps approached, and two more men appeared, also with crossbows. The oldest of them frowned. "Dodgson, who is this?"

"Detective from L.A., tracing a stolen car."

"Here?"

"I somehow doubt that," said a new voice coldly. Another man came into view, older than the others, not dressed for sneaking, using a walking stick to balance on the rubble. He kept his distance and glared at Angel, who smiled back.

"No, really, I'm tracing a car. And I found it, too." He shifted slightly, putting himself between at least one crossbow and the new arrival, who sneered just a little.

"Oh, yes, the detective agency. Through which you try to atone for the incalculable evil you' ve inflicted on the world."

Angel shrugged, never taking his eyes of the man who was obviously in charge.

The senior of the three crossbowmen blinked. "Mr. Travers? Do you know this man?"

"He's not a man. He's a vampire. Angelus."

As the others gasped, Angel smiled. "I'm between you and them, and if I hear one click of a crossbow starting to fire, I'll duck, and you'll be a pincushion. Just a thought." He lost the smile. "So, Travers. Would that be Quentin Travers, the head of the Watchers Council? What brings you to Sunnydale? Did you find a new test for Buffy?"

Travers stood even straighter. "Our purpose here is none of your business, Angelus."

"The name is Angel. Or didn't you get the report from those idiots who were around last time? I'm not surprised, they weren't very bright."

"I'm more concerned about your presence here," Travers said. "Specifically in this part of Sunnydale."

Angel allowed himself a faint smile. "I heard some rumors I wanted to follow up on."

Travers tensed slightly. "What rumors?"

"Family things. You wouldn't be interested."

"On the contrary, the Council is always interested in matters involving your . . . family."

Angel glanced at the crossbowmen again. The only reason he could think the Council would send a hit squad to Sunnydale was that they'd heard Spike was back to what passed for normal. "Why now?"

Travers' hands shifted on his walking stick. "What do you mean?"

"Why the goon squad now? I imagine you're here to make sure they don't screw up everything again, but why come after Spike now? The Council didn't seem in any hurry to send in backup for Buffy when he was wandering around loose before." He blinked at the way Travers' shoulders relaxed, though the man's voice stayed as cold as ever.

"William the Bloody is not a vampire who should be allowed to run around loose." Travers' lip curled just slightly. "Failing the effective efforts of those who say their only concern is the welfare of the innocent, the Council has no choice but to act ourselves."

Angel studied the Councilman closely. He was nervous about something, but he'd lost some of his anxiety when Angel had mentioned Spike. "Does Buffy know you're here?"

"Yes, she does." Travers was definitely smug. "We are working closely with her on this project."