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."

That hurt, in a weird way. But really, who else should a Vampire Slayer go to for help when dealing with an especially notorious and dangerous vampire, her own Watchers Council or someone who had just proven to himself he would let prime opportunities slide by?

If Buffy was part of this, though, that put a different perspective on certain matters. "You don't have enough people, not to take out Spike and whoever he's got with him."

"What do you mean?" Travers snapped, suddenly tense again.

"He's a cocky idiot, but he hasn't survived this long by being a complete moron. You'll have to take him by surprise and finish it quickly, because if he has a chance to get his feet under him, he'll take you all. I've seen three others around here, and he mentioned someone else. That's four, plus Spike, plus God only knows how many. Even with Buffy, you're outnumbered." He glanced in the direction of the lair, than back. "Remember who trained him, Mr. Travers." He didn't even try to stop the faint, menacing, Angelus smirk that flickered out.

Travers fidgeted with his walking stick a moment. "Who have you seen?"

Angel shrugged. "The usual underlings keeping watch. And you do know that it's not just vampires around here, don't you?"

"We've seen the signs." He looked very thoughtful, then met Angel's eyes. "Thank you for the warning," he said grudgingly. "We'll definitely keep it in mind."

Angel nodded. "Good night, then." He took one step away before using vampire speed to vanish into the darkness, leaving the humans to jump and gasp. He stayed within earshot though.

"Sir," said the chief goon, "we didn't really factor William the Bloody into the battle plan. We thought we could do this with a quick in and out."

"Yes, I know," Travers said. "And if he is here, we'd have to get into that lair and find him. If they are keeping the kind of security Angelus says, that would be no easy task."

"Sir," another said, "are we going to believe him? A vampire? Even if he is supposed to be on our side now?"

Travers was silent for several minutes. "I don't trust him. He has fallen from grace before. But I don't disbelieve him, either."

"Should we have told him--?"

"No. Absolutely not. There's no need for this to become gossip for the riff raff of the night."

Angel bristled silently. Riff raff?

"We should leave," Travers continued. "We don't want to risk getting caught by anything else."

Angel listened to the men depart, wondering if anything was going to jump out at them and what he'd do if something did. Nothing happened, and he was very thoughtful as he headed for his car. Who were the Council people looking for if not Spike? Was it whoever Spike had been asking about, the one who was out hunting in a shiny foreign car?

He debated going back to Willie's for more information, but another visit would require more forceful persuasion. It was just possible that Willie might tell Spike about Angel's visit in an effort to curry favor with the vampire who seemed to be in charge of such things. Maybe Giles would know something. The last Angel had heard, relations between Giles and the Council weren't overly cordial, and the ex-Watcher might be willing to say why the Council was wandering around Sunnydale.

When Angel reached Giles' complex, new residents were in his apartment, and they didn't know where he had gone when Angel asked. Maybe he'd finally decided to leave a place with so many bad memories. Maybe he'd been evicted after one too many damage-causing incidents, Angel thought with a smile that quickly disappeared after remembering his own incident. Still, he needed to talk to someone. The power structures of the Hellmouth had shifted, and he had too many ties to the place to ignore the situation.

Revello Drive was painfully familiar, peaceful and prosaic on a summer night. Lights were on all over the Summers house, and through the dining room window Angel saw Joyce, Dawn, Willow and Buffy sitting around the table talking and sipping from mugs. A girl he didn't recognize sat very close to Willow. The talk seemed cheerful enough, but with an underlying melancholy. If he'd tried, he probably could have heard their words, but he found himself content to simply watch.

Buffy looked tired. She always seemed to, whenever he saw her these days. As he watched, though, he saw her look at Joyce with an expression of uncomplicated love and happiness. She looked almost sixteen again.

He turned around and went back to his car. Tonight, for whatever reason, she was happy. If she saw him, she wouldn't be happy anymore. Information was everywhere, but there was very little peace for Slayers, and he wasn't going to be responsible for taking it away when he knew she wouldn't get to enjoy it for long.

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

It was a rough time for him, what with the rodents and the "Mandy"and what not.