"I dunno what's weirder, the priest or his church."
Gunn muttered as he and Dawn crossed the litter strewn sidewalk to his car.
"Know what you mean. He is a bit off, isn't he?"
Dawn stood by the car and gave the church a last, long look.
Old, must date back to when the city was still part of Mexico, she thought. It had been pleasing to the eye once but now, hemmed in as it was by run down warehouses and semi-occupied blocks of office buildings with the requisite layers of graffiti; it was gloomy, brooding and somewhat sinister. She kept her expression blank as she noticed the elder of the two priests lingering in the shadowy doorway to say a few words to the old Indian woman who nodded and scuttled down the steps and down the sidewalk while keeping as much distance as possible between Gunn's car and herself. Dawn opened the car door and slid onto the front seat beside Gunn.
"I feel like we've got the plague or something very nasty. Father Diaz isn't impressed with Father Mathew coming to see us, is he? He didn't seem at all put out about the blood stains on the altar or the disfigured crucifix."
She muttered as she clipped her seat belt with a snap.
Gunn turned the key in the ignition and wheeled out into the traffic before answering,
"Yeah, I got the feeling that Father Mathew is going to be in trouble over wanting to know what the hell is happening inside that church. What do you think is going on?"
"I'm not sure; but there's definitely something creepy at work in there. There must have been a whole lot of blood to leave stains that large. And did you get a look at some of those old murals? I'm no Catholic but if those were Saints then I'll walk through a cemetery tonight after slicing myself up and dripping blood! I'll do some research on that place and the good Fathers when I've got a quiet moment. Can you stop at that store? We're out of milk."
He pulled into the parking lot of the store she had indicated and watched as she went in for the milk. Through the window he saw the old woman from the church staring at Dawn and whispering to a trio of teenaged Indian boys. Gunn partially opened his door, ready to leap out if necessary but the group merely fell silent and stared at the girl as she paid for the milk and left. Dawn slipped into the car and let out a sigh of relief as they drove past the still staring group.
"What was that all about?"
Gunn wanted to know.
Dawn shrugged,
"I think we'll be watched if we come back down here again and we won't be too welcome either from the look of it. I overheard enough to make that out but they began talking in another language that wasn't Spanish. Another mystery. I'm not over fond of mysteries; they have this habit of turning into Armageddon's or Apocalypses and other assorted annoyances."
"Yeah, I kinda noticed that myself. We keep running into the one's that leave you bruised and battered, if not actually at deaths door. Can't say I like cryptic prophesies either; get you into all sorts of trouble, those will."
He mused out loud before changing the subject to a more immediate concern,
"How long do you reckon Angel and Spike can go without beating each other up? I'm not used to them being all friendly and it's starting to mess with my head."
Dawn laughed,
"It is kinda freaky, isn't it? I'm just hoping one of them doesn't have a sudden fit of insanity and dust or fry the other! What has me spooked the most it neither of them have tried to interrogate me about Buffy and the new boyfriend; normal not."
She had returned from her two months in Rome over a week ago and had been expecting the vamps to want to know every detail about her sister's doings and the Immortal in particular. Instead they had both been content to ask how she'd enjoyed her time with Buffy was and leaving it at that.
Gunn pulled up at the kerb out front of the office and told her,
"You know, I actually think they've both given up on her. Angel's quite happy with Nina. Not that we want him to be too happy of course, Angelus was damn hard to get rid of last time he paid us a visit! Spike went real quiet for the first few days after you guys left for Italy and then seemed to come out of it full of plans for this place."
Dawn handed him the milk before getting out of the car, saying as she joined him on the kerb,
"I don't think Spike will give up that easily. He was with Dru for over a hundred years and he is the last of the original Victorian romantics; I bet he's still writing reams of mushy love poems for Buffy!"
Gunn opened the door and dropped his voice too low to be overheard,
"As long as he doesn't start reading them to us on slow nights; I've gotta horrible feeling it'd be as bad as Angel's taste in music."
"Barry Manilow!"
The spoke as one and laughed a little harder at Angel's perplexed expression.
It wasn't quite sundown when Angel made his way upstairs to find Adanar manning the front desk and alone in the office. The Ganaru was singing softly to himself and the vampire regretted that Lorne wasn't there to here the wonderful voice. He missed Lorne and knowing that it was he himself who had driven the Pylean away stung as painfully as the loss of Cordelia, Wesley, Fred and Illyria. And Doyle; mustn't forget the first soldier down or the visions the half-breed demon had passed on to Cordelia. Angel found the lack of a seer hampered them badly and wondered if The Powers That Be would send them another. But for now they had to work with what they had; two souled vampires, a Ganaru healer and two human warriors.
"Gunn and Dawn out handling that desecration matter?"
The vamp asked as he sifted through the small stack of mail, so different from the masses of paperwork that went with being in charge of Wolfram and Hart.
Adanar nodded,
"They should be back soon. They were only going to speak to the priest and examine the church to see if it looked like a one off rather than a systematic matter. There was a call from a young woman who sounded quite distressed and asked for an appointment. She shall be here at eight thirty."
"Did she say what it was about?"
"She recently moved in to a building she feels is haunted by something unpleasant and since she can not afford to move again, she wants to be rid of the ghost or whatever is making her life uncomfortable."
'Angel Investigations' was back in business and as much in demand as ever. L.A might not be a certified Hellmouth but there was a sizable demon community, an inexhaustible supply of eccentric humans and an even larger population of the helpless. Members of both groups sometimes found their way through the doors of the agency's latest address; an old two storied building that had once housed a street level grocery store with two small apartments above. It hadn't taken much to convert the store into office space for 'Angel Investigations', the two apartments into one comfortable home for Dawn and Adanar and the basement into a safe retreat for Angel.
Remodelled and refurbished, it was a pleasant and inviting place that didn't hint at the funds the agency had at its disposal; thanks to Dawns Berdea crystals and the money Angel had made from the sale of the half demolished Hyperion hotel. It did boast a security system capable of turning the thick stone walls into a fortress in addition to several high level magical spells would prevent all but the most formidable magic users attacking the agency or its personnel in that way. None of which could be easily detected by the closest scrutiny by anyone, whether human or demonic. The best that money could buy didn't have to be flashy or obvious and they had the very best but it was what money couldn't buy that they felt the lack of most keenly; absent friends.
"Evenin' Peaches. Danny Boy."
Spike entered from the hallway that led to the back door, shaking non-existent sewer dirt from his beloved duster. He went into his office and hung it on the coat rack before giving his personal space a satisfied glance. They each had an office; Spike's desk had a computer he used mainly for playing games and an antique silver fold out photo frame, a gift from Dawn. As he did every time he entered, he picked it up and smiled at each of the three images; a copy of a photo of Dawn, Buffy and Joyce that once graced the mantelpiece in the Summer's living room; a photo taken the day of Dawn's infamous 'nobody leave' wish with the entire Scooby 'family' and one of he and Joyce sharing a laugh in his Sunnydale crypt.
He removed the latter from the frame and turned it over to read the message neatly written there; To Spike, with love and thanks from your friend, Tara. Only Glinda would want to do something so thoughtful for a vamp who had punched her in the jaw to prove she wasn't a demon, he thought sadly. Dawn had told him that Willow found the photo in a box of stuff she'd left with Giles; a photo Tara had obviously magic-ed so that his image was clear instead of the usually fuzzy vamp photo image but not had the opportunity to give to him. He and Joyce sat close together, faces in three quarter profile and smiling at something in front of them; probably "Passions" as Dawn had suggested with a knowing laugh. He slid the photo back into its frame and headed to the kitchen for a mug of blood.
Angel was already standing by the microwave and Spike was pleased to see three mugs on the turnstile. Both vampires were making a concerted effort to get along these days. It wasn't easy; Spike still tried to get a rise from his Sire and Angel still treated his childre as a fool. But they were trying to break the habits of more than a century of Angelus/William the Bloody and Angel/Spike the Slayer of Slayers. It was proving to be one hell of a challenge for them both.
The microwave pinged and Angel handed Spike a mug, asking politely,
"Would you take this out to Adanar, please Spike? Oh, did I tell you I found someone to supply us with a little otter? I thought we'd give it a taste test."
"My mouth's watering with the smell of it. Don't let mine go cold if the Big Guy's in the mood for a chat, eh?"
Spike took the proffered mug and sniffed its contents as he crossed to the reception area; one of Adanar's herbal teas, a hint of chamomile, mint and St. John's Wort. Three of the twenty odd herbs the Ganaru had growing in the high walled back yard. Spike grinned to himself as he heard the familiar sounds of 'Crash Bandicoot' coming from the front desk computer. Adanar ignored him as he tried to co-ordinate a series of jumps. Setting the steaming mug by the Ganaru's hand, the blond vamp checked the score and whistled; it was in danger of surpassing Angels best.
Heading back to the kitchen to share the good news, he tried to hide a grin as he casually sipped his perfectly warmed blood and told his Sire,
"The Big Guy's just about to push you back a place, mate. He's really getting the hang of 'Crash'. Isn't he?"
Angel looked dismayed,
"He's not, is he? Damn, it's taken me months to get that number one spot!"
Spike followed the dark haired vamp into the foyer and heard him groan. Adanar kept his eyes on the screen and his fingers working busily as he asked,
"What is wrong, Angel? Am I playing the game incorrectly?"
"No. You're doing extremely well, as a matter of fact. You've just manage to earn the highest any of us have ever scored. Congratulations."
Angel tried to sound pleased for him.
The vamp felt a sneaky pang of pleasure as Gunn and Dawn entered and their laughter caused Adanar to falter and fail; too late to save his own number one position.