Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from the shows. I did make up Alec though.

Angela walked into her office a few days later to find Booth passed out on her couch. Angela checked the clock. It was roughly 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Not generally nap time for most people, but Booth looked pretty far under to Angela. She decided to let him sleep. She had noticed that Booth had been looking paler lately and she was worried that he hadn't been sleeping enough.

She walked to her computer and pressed a few keys before looking back over at Booth. He was remarkably still for a sleeping person. Angela noted. He hadn't shifted or twitched and he wasn't snoring. Angela could barely even make out his breathing.

Angela did see a sketch pad pinned under Booth's arm. Angela frowned. As far as she knew Booth hadn't even done the required art during school.

Angela looked back at her work and tried to concentrate, but she found her gaze pulled repeatedly back towards the sketch pad. She knew that it was a fairly unethical to give into her curiosity in this case, but she had never had very good impulse control.

After around five minutes Angela couldn't resist any longer. She tip toed towards him and gently slid the pad of paper from his arm.

She flipped over the first page and nearly gasped in surprise. The drawing was of a beautiful girl. The drawing was gorgeous. It was done in charcoal and graphite, and each stroke was carefully done. From the shading Angela guessed that the girl would have been blonde in reality, and her eyes would have been relatively light in color. The charcoal lines had picked out very delicate bone features, and Angela guessed that she would probably be a petite person. The girl looked like she was around fifteen or sixteen, and she was sitting on the steps of a building. her hair was down around her face, and one hand was holding a lollypop.

Angela traced her fingers over the lines of the picture. She was an artist and she could appreciate fine art. There was no denying that the person who had drawn the picture had poured in the utmost care, and love. To make such a realistic portrait, even for a skilled artist took time and devotion.

Angela flipped the pages of the sketch book. Almost all of the pictures where of people. A man with a beard and large glasses, a girl with short hair and a mega wat smile, another girl with big, shocked eyes, and a shy smile, a bald man with African American features and a large grin, and a man with high cheek bones, slicked back hair, and a smug grin. The girl from the first page was also presented over and over again.

She looked down at Angel. Something seemed off about him. The lack of movement didn't seem quite right. She didn't know it, but it looked like Booth wasn't breathing because he actually wasn't. Angel only breathed while he was awake out of habit. When he was asleep the pattern lapsed.

"Oh my god Booth!" Angela panicked.

Angel jerked awake. "What? Who's dead?"

"You were! I thought!" Angela explained with a hand over her heart.

"Oh," Angel blinked sleepily. He still couldn't break his nocturnal habits which meant that he could only grab about 2 or 3 hours a day break time at work.

Angela shook her head. "Well, now that you've given me a heart attack, is there a reason that you were passed out on my couch?"

"Oh." Angel blinked again. "Um, Bones had a meeting and you had the other couch so..." Angel looked around. "Sketch pad?" he asked.

"Right here." Angela held it out to him.

Angel straightened as he took the pad back. "You didn't look at these did you?" Angela flushed guiltily. "Great," Angel sighed.

"They're so beautiful though!" Angela exclaimed. "Why don't you show these to anyone? I mean! I never even knew you could draw!"

"I didn't ever plan on bringing it up," Angel mumbled as he stood up from the couch and made to leave.

Just as he was going out the door Angela called out to stop him. "Who was she?"

Angel turned slowly. "Just someone I knew." he lied.

Angela shook her head. "No way Booth. If you took that much care to draw her than she is not just some girl you knew." Angela pointed towards the sketch book. "Artists only take that kind of care to draw people they care about. People they love."

There was absolute silence for a long moment. Angel turned away. "I have to go meet with Sweets and Bones," when he was almost out the door he called back. "Don't mention this to anybody." and then he was gone.

At the end of the meeting with Sweets, night was falling outside the windows, and as a result Angel was feeling much more energized. His nerves and senses had picked up to full speed and he felt like he had downed several cups of espresso. Without the normally jittery effects caffeine normally gave him. He felt completely ready to go and kill of the beasts of hell. It turned out that vamps and demons were almost as big in D.C. cemeteries as they were in L.A.

"Do you want me to give you a ride Bones?" he asked as he headed out the door.

"Oh, no thank you Booth I have my car," she answered.

Angel nodded and slipped out the door, and out of the building into the familiar dark.

Sweets frowned slightly when Doctor Brennan didn't move from her seat. Normally she and Booth left like bats from hell the second their meetings were over. "Can I help you Doctor Brennan?"

Brennan bit her lip hesitantly. "I'm worried about Booth." She confided.

Sweets shifted to attention. "I'm listening."

"I've noticed some more changes in his behavior since the coma."

"Okay, such as?"

Bones sit her lip again and mulled over just how much to tell him. "He hasn't been eating, and his sleeping patterns seem to have shifted. Neither of which are healthy for someone who works the way that Booth does. The lack of eating alone could be harmful to Booth's physical ability."

Sweets frowned again. "It's possible that he is simply eating when you aren't around. After all, Booth has performed his job with the same accuracy as ever. What I am more worried about are the changing sleep habits. Can you describe how they seem altered to you?"

This was more of listing scientific symptoms which was something that Bones was comfortable with. "Booth has been much less energetic during the day particularly between 11 and 4 o'clock in the afternoon. However, anytime after that he seems fully active and energetic." Bones thought for a moment to think of any other changes. "Also, this is a little farther out of my knowledge zone but he seems much paler, and quieter."

Sweets thought hard about what any of the symptoms could mean, but the best he could come up with was stress anxiety. He resolved to keep on contemplating until he could some up with anything. He thanked Doctor Brennan and she left while Sweets continued to think.

Angel stretched comfortably in the cool night air. This pattern was familiar too him. Find a graveyard. Get a list of newly buried people. Wait to see if anyone came out to play. If they did, presto! one brand new dust pile. It was almost too easy most times. Most fledges barely even put up a fight.

I need to find something a little harder to kill. Angel thought.

Now he realizes. Angelus snarked. Can we find some big world ending thing to fight now? I'm getting bored.

"Oh my god I can't believe I'm agreeing with my psychotic inner demon," Angel muttered out loud.

"Booth? What are you doing here?" came Hodgins voice.

Angel did some extremely colorful swearing in Gaelic before turning around to face the entomologist. "I could ask you the same question Hodgins. What the hell are you doing out here?! It's nine o'clock at night in the middle of a freaking graveyard! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?" he ranted.

Hodgins threw his hands up in defense. "Hey, calm down dude! I'm just delivering some flora to Great and Doris. See?" he held up a large tissue wrapped bouquet of daffodils.

The cloying smell assaulted Angels nose. "Oh god," he muttered. "Look, could you flower great aunt Doris and get the hell home? I don't want to have to kill you."

"Alright calm down." Hodgins muttered. "Hey what's with the fence post?" he asked.

Angel glanced down at the stake he was still holding and tucked it into the belt loop of the leather pants he had wound up wearing that night. Angel had taken to patrolling in Angelus clothing just in case. He was careful to hide it under his aviator jacket "Nothing, I just, um found it. Now get home before us talking wakes the dead."

There was a ripping sound from behind Angel and he spun on the spot. He was confronted with a towering vampire in an old fashioned black suite in full vamp face snarling ferally.

"Well, to late for that I guess," Angel commented dryly. He thought quickly before deciding on the right course of action to remove Hodgins from the situation. He knocked him out cold with a hit to the back of the head.

Hodgins dropped like heavy log and fell against a gravestone, banging his head again. He would probably have a killer headache when he woke up, but that wasn't Angel's prime concern at that precise moment.

At the sound of his voice the vampire spun towards him. "Angelus? Old friend! Is that you old chum?"

Angel let his face slip into full morph and stepped forward to meet the vampire. "Alec? I haven't seen you since Venice in the 1840's. What are you doing fake rising like this?"

The vampire named Alec faked a hurt expression that didn't fit with his twisted features. "Come now Angelus! Is that anyway to great an old friend." he held out his arms like he was expecting a hug.

Angel thought that his best move would be to go with it so he returned the hug. He had known Alec over 100 years ago as Angelus. The two of them had had an excellent time causing mass destruction throughout Italy and France. Angel had fallen out of touch with Alec like he had with everyone else when he got his soul.

"Your clothing seems strange," Alec commented. "What year is this?"

"Two thousand and thirteen. When else would it be," Angel told him.

"I don't know," Alec shrugged. "That damned slayer got me in 1879. A few weeks ago I woke up good as a century old in the middle of the Piazza Rivera. I heard the new slayer was in the United States and there was a magic center in D.C. I thought that pretending to be dead was a good way to snare a slayer. Expecting a fledge and getting a master they wouldn't stand a chance. How have you been?" he asked.

Angelus shrugged. "Decent. Spent some quality time on the Hellmouth. Went to hell for a little while."

"It's not pleasant? Is it?" Alec commented conversationally.

"It could do with a remodel," Angel agreed before ramming the stake into his old friends heart. "Maybe you can suggest it when you get back there."

Angel was frowning and thinking about the issue of long dusted vampires coming back to life. His thoughts were interrupted by Hodgins groaning as he came back into consciousness.

"Ow! What the hell?" he groaned.

"You tripped and hit your head." Angel told him.

"Oh. How come I don't remember that?" Hodgins asked as Angel helped him to his feet.

Angel looked Hodgins straight in the face. "Hodgins, listen to me." he injected his thrawling power into his voice. "I met you here at the cemetary while you were leaving flowers for your Great Aunt Doris. You got up to leave and tripped over a grave. You hit your head, and have been unconscious for several minutes. It doesn't matter why I was here, and this conversation never happened. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Hodgins echoed blankly.

"Good," Angel started to lead Hodgins back towards the cemetary parking lot. "God! Everytime I do that I feel just a bit more like Dracula," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

A/N: Well? How was it? I have now introduced the Big Bad force of the story. Buffy and Spike will be making a grand entrance in the next chapter. Reviews are the essence of amazing! :) :) :) :)