Chapter 2

Three Months Earlier

Angel held the address on a note crumpled into his hand as he stepped up to the town house in the quiet upscale neighborhood. The tidy lawn, split by a walkway of decorative slabs, and pansies in the flower boxes were more vibrant in the pictures than in the fading twilight, but he knew that the townhouse gave all indications of normalcy. Well designed but not flashy, it would have been an excellent long term haunt especially with the demons who lived on either side of it. Angelus could have done much evil in this house.

A realtor from Wolfram & Hart stood at the entrance. An Asian man, in an impeccable suit, shook his hand and greeted him. "Hello, Mr. Angelus, I am Gavin Park and I'm here to show you your new home. On the behalf of the senior partners, I'd like to say that we're quite pleased to be working for you and we hope to continue serving your interests in the future."

"Thanks," Angel said shortly as he nodded to the house. "Is it opened up?"

"Yes, indeed, let me show you." Gavin Park rushed to open the door and gestured Angel inside. "The house has been renovated as per your instructions with all those requested adaptions. The room upstairs with the door that locked from the outside as well as in the attic." Gavin led him farther into the living room, staged and presented with the best of rented minimalist furniture, as he talked. "There is a small balcony garden with the night blooming plants you requested. Also, the workers have finished installing the chains in the specified rooms. I almost forgot that the soundproofing, which was extensive, has been completed."

Angel closed his eyes as he remembered all of Angelus's plans for Los Angeles and this house. This was where he was to start his empire in earnest with Drusilla by his side and Willow under his thumb as he tutored her to be his next childe. The house was everything that Angelus appreciated with the high ceilings and limited exits as well as the luxurious design. The sparse show furniture only emphasized the subtle molding and tasteful paint colors on the walls. Angel frowned. The hand of Angelus was as evidence as if he had built the place himself with his bare hands.

"I have already mailed the blueprints and the contracts are ready to be signed." Gavin Park smiled as he pointed to his briefcase on the kitchen table.

Angel shook his head. "I don't believe that I'll be taking this house. Keep all the fees but transfer the rest back into my account. I've found other accommodations." It was a lie, but Angel turned heel and walked out to leave Gavin Park to gape at him. Angel couldn't stay in that house a moment longer and got into his new car and drove until he had only a quarter tank left. He pulled into a mini mart parking lot in the Valley and got out of his car at the pump when a man in a fedora and a stained coat came up to him.

"Hey, you Angel, mate?" The shorter man had the tones of Ireland in his voice and whiskey on his breath. He had the eyes of an honest man and the shaking hands of a gambler. Angel had known more than a few like him before. In many ways, he had been like that when he was human.

"Yeah, that would be me. Why?" Angel wasn't sure what this guy's game was. When he first saw him, he could have sworn the man was going to ask him if he wanted some scalped tickets or a TV that had fallen off a truck. Angel continued to the mini mart door to pay for some gas.

"I'm Doyle. I've been sent to help you." Doyle swayed as he opened the door for Angel.

"No offense, but you look more like you need help than I do." Angel steadied the other man before walking inside.

"Looks can be deceiving. There is more to this package than meets the eye." Doyle waited for Angel to finish the transaction before he continued again as the vampire went back to his car.

"Yeah, you're a demon."

"I'm very much human on my mother's side. Doesn't mean I'm a bad guy. I'm on your team." Doyle leaned on the car. "Let me tell you a bedtime story about a mean old vampire named Angel. He killed and butchered his way through the centuries before angry gypsies cursed him like they tend to do in fairy tales. Angel got a human soul again and he's mad with grief and regret." He shook his hands. "Ugh, what have I done, he's freaked. Lets himself go for a couple of decades until along comes a girl to liven the story up. Star-crossed love with slayer makes him feel like a man and he turns back into a killer. Evil Angel steals a witch and finds himself cursed again by her friends and is given another chance to find redemption. He goes to the City of Angels to save those lost in the crowd and suffering in the darkness."

Angel gave Doyle a long look as he pumped his gas. "Are you sure that you don't need the help?"

"Hey, I worked on that speech in the mirror, mate. I did it all arseways because you got here a year early and didn't even stay long enough at that fancy abode for me to talk you out of it. I had a whole tangent about the corrupting power of the finer things." Doyle shrugged and scratched his neck while smiling a sheepish grin. "According to this flashy empath, I'm a conduit to the powers that be."

"Powers that be what?" Angel finished pumping and closed gas cap for his black convertible. Angel could smell the dog track on his clothes and alcohol on his breath yet he knew Angel's name and his life story. Seers were rare and came in all kinds of packages. Angel couldn't help but think of Drusilla.

"No clue, but I'm thinking they want me to help you fight evil and drinking doesn't make it go away." Doyle raised his hands as he hopped into the car as Angel leaned against the driver's side door."Might as while answer the call since the bleeding thing won't stop ringing. Well, actually, the visions are more of a flash..." He stopped. "Aren't you coming, mate?"

"Why are you here?" Angel asked again as he made himself hope that there was a purpose for him and got into the car.

"You're not the only one with something to atone for." Doyle pulled out a piece of paper with a name and time. "I had a vision this morning about an girl who is going to die unless you save her."

Angel took the card and scanned it before he asked, "Where should we start?"

"That's your gig, mate, I'm more like your cosmic answering machine. I just take the messages." Doyle shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. "Do you mind giving me a lift though?" He gave directions.

"Fine. Tell me more about this vision." Angel pulled out of the min-mart parking lot. The balmy night air wafted over him with the smell of humanity: blood, sweat, tears. Organic and ancient, urban decay settled in like the foundations of this modern metropolis where the sun set and stars rose. Whistler had told him once that another seer would come to him when the time was right. He had come to Los Angeles looking for a mission, but it seemed like one had found him.

Willow spread out her black velvet cloth with the silver pentagram already sewn into the fabric. It had been a gift from Ms. Calendar as a way to help her learn to set up a circle. Willow sighed as she smoothed out the corners and placed the black candles into position to call the four directions. The emailed witch lessons were fine but Willow missed Ms. Calendar's sense of humor and whimsy. The teacher combined the magical and technological and Willow couldn't respect her more. Except one thing nagged at Willow at night. Ms. Calendar didn't trust her.

She had once, Willow knew. But the night when they saved Oz, something changed. Willow guessed that Giles and Ms. Calendar had seen into her soul as she had seen into both theirs and Angel's with the soul sucking Chloriani demon as a conduit. What she had seen had scared her and Willow felt sure that it had scared Ms. Calendar more. After the ritual to destroy the sacrifice to Gurija the Avenger, Jenny had steered her away from the magic shop and had taken to heavy philosophical discussions about power and responsibility with the balance of nature. It was interesting and useful to know, but Willow couldn't help but think that the teacher purposefully tried to keep her from practical experiments. Though, that wasn't the right word, Willow examined the sage bundle in her hand with a frown. Willow still thought of magic as a tool in many ways which Ms. Calendar had strong feelings about. Scientists experimented, but magic was a sacred craft. It had taken weeks for Ms. Calendar to even let her float a pencil. She lit the candles.

Setting a metal bowl, consecrated and bought at the dollar store, in the center, Willow lit the incense and set it in there to burn then she relaxed her shoulders and closed her eyes. She focused on her bedroom in the new condo first. Imagining a blue sphere of energy, surrounding and protecting the room, she breathed deep and exhaled slowly. The bedroom furniture was bare, boxes unpacked, with only her bed made. She spread that energy down the hall to her parents' room and then the living room and the kitchen in similar stages of move-yness. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she felt a presence push back at her. Keeping cool, she furrowed her brow and continued to stretch the cleansing sphere out to the balcony and the stairs beyond the front door. The presence didn't dissipate. It seemed to grow. It seemed to want to hurt her. A chill whipped through the room and she opened her eyes as the candles sputtered out.

Her blanket threw itself at her.

Yelping, she tossed it off her, hoping the sage didn't singe it. Willow jumped up. Her heart raced as her eyes darted around. Her parents had gone to pick up take out and locked the door behind them. Willow should have been alone, but she wasn't.

The door creaked open and thumped closed as her dad called out to her. "Pizza, hot and fresh, come and get it."

Willow frowned, scurrying to clean up her spell supplies, before she escaped the room. Willow wished that she could have Buffy here in a jiffy to make her feel brave or Xander to make jokes. Then they could have worked out a spell with Giles and Ms. Calendar. But, Willow just had herself right now. In some ways, she couldn't help but be surprised that a little bit of the hellmouth had followed them. It was almost a relief; monsters she could handle, 'fresh starts', not so much.

Lawson had been sitting in the same stool at the karaoke bar since nightfall. He kept laying the wrinkled bills on the counter and the bartender had kept giving him blood Bloody Marys, but there was much more judgment in the human's eyes as the hours ticked away and Lawson's criticizing comments about the singers got more bitter. He had worn out his welcome at four other bars and he appeared to be making record time on bar number five.

Lawson sagged on the counter as he sipped his drink from a neon bendy straw and thought about the emptiness gnawing within him. Since the beginning, he had felt a disconnect but his time in Sunnydale had made him think that he had discovered his zest for unlife. In meeting his sire again, he thought he had put the past abandonment and regrets behind him. He realized that he had done just fine without a sire, but all that vigor had drained from him after he had left Sunnydale. Like a beatnik suffering from heroin withdrawals, he just couldn't shake the feeling of numbed despair. Lawson hadn't understood how he had become so used to feeling more dead than alive until all those feelings came crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Drowning in more than just liquor, Lawson felt like he couldn't swim to the surface. He couldn't even raise himself up to find a answer and even showering felt like a burden. From the looks the other patrons gave him and the two empty stools on either side of him, it must have been more of a burden to those around him. Swirling thoughts made him dizzy so he laid his head on his crossed arms.

A light tap on his shoulder made him grumble, the second made him rumbled out a curse and the third made him lift his head and say, "I will rip your throat out." He turned his head and squinted to refocus. "What do you want, you Dutch fuck?"

Franz smiled, hands clasped in front of him, and tilted his chin up. "And, a good evening to you." The Dutchman scanned him without seeming to move his eyes. He was dressed to the nines in business attire including a stake in the inside suit pocket though a vampire Franz's age would only need his bare hands to take down any vampire less than a century in the grave. "I daresay, by the looks of it, it hasn't been a good evening in awhile."

"Its just gotten worse." Lawson rolled his eyes and gulped down the last of his bloody drink. "Now, state your business."

"You." Franz nodded to him. "The Order doesn't realize what an embarrassment that you've become. Living under a bridge, dining on hobos, growing fouler by the fortnight. Matilda and Sebastian have no idea and if you listen to me, they won't."

Lawson narrowed his gaze. "What's your angle?"

"What it has always been. My own." Franz crossed his arms. Cold and calculating, there wasn't a hint of an expression beyond a professional agenda lurked behind his every movement, Lawson had no doubt, and there was no telling what kind of long or short game Franz could be playing. "I can get you cleaned up and sorted out."

"You can't fix whats wrong with me. Ever since Sunnydale... I keep draining yuppies on prozac and nothing happens. I've even been to a shaman. Got bumkiss in return."

"I know people who can help you." Franz's expression shifted to one seemingly lacking guile. "For a small fee, after you have accepted the Order's offer- Matilda and Sebastian's generous offer, of course."

"So, you're going to take me to a demon shrink, I'll talk about my father issues and before you know it, all be watching Doris Day movies and singing in the rain?" Lawson pulled out his crumpled billfold, intending to use his last dollars on straight hard booze.

"Close. I'll take you to Wolfram & Hart." Franz smiled as he pulled a fifty out of his pocket along with a business card. "Tell me know if you're interested."

Lawson slapped the bill on the table and ignored Franz walk away. He grumbled for another drink.

The barkeep amped up the judgment, pushing the business card away from the fifty with a pinkie, but accepted it anyway.

Lawson sneered and knew he wasn't tipping this one.

Three Months ago

Angel opened up the door to the second story business suite. The place had been haunted for years so the price was outrageously reasonable. All it had taken was the right chants and incense before the spirits where gone and the place was almost fit for humans or vampires. The door squeaked on its hinges as it opened to reveal a musty and dusty office that had a single desk and a trash can filled with a empty beer box inside. The electricity wasn't on, but he had no trouble seeing the bare room. In his mind, it was filled with potential. This was the place were he could start again as fresh as a vampire with two hundred plus years of baggage could.

Doyle stumbled in and pulled out a small flashlight on his key chain from his pocket. He turned it on. "So, this be your fortress of solitude?" He stepped farther into the room. "And, you gave up a mansion for this place?" Doyle asked, turning around to get the full 360 degree view of the place, his eyebrow raised.

"I had my reasons... that had nothing to do with property value." Angel crossed his arms and looked down before he shrugged. The place wasn't much but it wasn't tainted. It was a first step for him. A place where he could do good, atone, make amends in any small way that he could. It was cramped but it would do. "You haven't even seen the best part."

"There is only up, I suppose after this anti-climax." Doyle smiled before clapping his hand on Angel's shoulder. "Show me the place. Tell me your dream for it."

Angel smiled. "This will be the lobby for clients." He pointed to the right wall. "I'll put a table with a coffeemaker over there and then a sofa and coffee table on the right. See, in between taking the cases that the powers," Angel tried to keep his disdain out of his voice, "send me, I want to be able to help where I can. Help the hopeless and those that just need a hand in the darkness."

"We ought to put that last line on the business card." Doyle pulled a flask from his pocket and took a swig. "Yeah, Angel, for a guy who wakes up to a steaming hot mug of blood, you're a decent person. I'll be happy to help. Not that I have much of a choice, but its a good gig for a loner hero like myself." Doyle shrugged. "Not that I'll be much of a help besides getting my visions, but hey, you never know, I might just be good at saving the damsels." He sneezed, his skin turned sickly green and blue spikes popped from his skin, and he winced. "Or not."

"You don't know what you're capable of, Doyle. You know my story, I should be a monster, but I'm not. Most of the time." Angel gestured him into the back. "First step is faith in yourself."

Doyle took another gulp and snorted. "Whats the second step, coming to believe a power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity?" He shook his head, flashlight stream shaking and showing wood floors, while he walked. "I've heard about the twelve steps, but never from a vampire."

"Its not just twelve steps, Doyle." Angel pointed out the room that would be his office before he directed them into the rickety old elevator. "But, you're never going to get anywhere until you start. Neither am I and that's why I'm here. Maybe that's why the powers put us together." Angel almost smiled as the elevator door closed. "This is my first step."

Willow's eyelids drooped even as she chewed her cereal and listened to the perky tv hosts on the morning show playing in the living room. Her attention was more focused on her green tea than anything else even the cravings. The tea seemed to take the edge off. She hadn't slept well that night. Nothing had happened but she couldn't shake the sensation of being watched. She had kept her closet light on and adjusted her blinds to let the glow of the city in. The sounds of the city were louder than she remembered so she laid in bed with her pillow over her ears and her eyes cracked open. Only late, did she fall asleep and not wake until the dawn. Her dad seemed to be a in a similar state as he cupped his coffee mug as if it was going to escape. His wire glasses slipped down his nose, but remained perched on the tip even as he yawned. They hadn't said much and the kitchen remained silent, as they breakfasted in their bathrobes, despite the sounds from the living room.

Her dad stood and placed his empty cereal bowl into the sink and reached for the coffeemaker in the counter space between the sink and the stove. His fingers hadn't touched the coffeepot handle when it jiggled.

Willow saw the coffeepot wobble on the base. A gentle scraping sound drifted to her ear. She titled her head to look at it before she saw it jerk. "Dad! Move left."

"What was that?," her dad asked as he dodged to the left and then jumped further back when he saw the pot soar. "What was that?" He asked again, just as bewildered as the first time.

The coffee pot shot towards the ground and crashed with a clatter before the hot coffee spilled all over the floor in a dark and bitter wave.

Willow raised her feet onto the first rung of the chair's legs to avoid the flow. She looked at the pot, mouthing gaping, and then at her dad.

"Did you see that?" Sheila asked, hand on her heart. Her eyes were wide as she looked at Willow.

"I had better go get a towel." Willow stood up and walked around the spilled coffee. She didn't even trust herself to look back. There was a ghost in this condo, clear and simple. Willow knew she'd have to ask Giles later that day when her mom drove her to Sunnydale. She had two questions to deal with now, how would her parents react to the supernatural in front of their faces and could she get rid of the ghost without them suspecting anything?