Part Two

Kate was agreeing to run the license plate, she was pointing out that she shouldn't and Angel was being as effusive as he knew how in his thanks. Which was mildly appreciative at best. 'To be honest it'll be a relief to get my head out of this case for a while', she said as she sat back down behind her desk.

'Tough one?' Angel asked.

'The worst, three victims, same killer. And do you know what they have in common? What he did to them, nothing else.'

'That's not true, they have you.'

She smiled at him, but the moment was interrupted when a police officer handed her a file 'Here's the latest victim, Detective Lockley.'

'Thanks.' she opened the manilla folder, a crime scene photo of a dead woman lay on the top, her neck punctured by two deep wounds and a cross carved into her left cheek. Angel stared, he felt like he was having a flashback, or a living nightmare. It was the woman from his dream.

'Gruesome, huh?' Kate said, seeing him staring. 'We need to catch this guy, the papers are calling him 'The Pope' … probably thinks he's doing God's work.'

'It's the opposite of that' Angel said without thinking, and then wished he hadn't. 'This is about mocking God, taunting him.' Kate raised her eyebrows at his definitive statement . 'That would be my guess… anyway.' He finished, trying to backtrack.

'They're ready for you Detective Lockley' The officer had returned and Kate stood up behind her desk, Angel stood with her. 'It's time for me to deliver the briefing' she glanced towards the briefing room as she continued to speak 'So I'd better…' she looked back at her desk. Angel was already halfway out of the squad room '...go.'

It was to a grim faced room that she delivered her briefing. Her officers were tired, and they wanted this guy stopped, but there was nothing they could latch onto, no clues as to who he would attack next. 'The suspect will be a white male, he won't look like a monster. In fact he may well be charming and attractive as his victims put up no struggle', she told the assembled officers. 'But at his core he is a loner. He won't view his victims as subhuman, more that he is superhuman, a superior species, something above us. He won't be married but he may have just come out of a long term relationship. There has to be a catalyst as to why he has started killing again and it could be a bad break up. He has done this before and one thing's for certain: he will do this again.'

Angel walked through the streets looking for something, but not knowing what. Hunting. He passed through the crowds; a silent shadow slipping amongst the humans, separated from them by his thoughts, by his experiences. Up ahead he saw a group of young women talking. One had her back turned. She was small, blonde, familiar. He felt his senses heighten as he approached the girl, knowing that if he had a heartbeat it would be hammering: this was what he was looking for, here she was. The blonde girl turned. It wasn't her. It was never her. He gave up his hunt and slunk home.

'OK, Doyle, I'm off. See you tomorrow.' Cordelia picked up her handbag and slung it over her shoulder as she headed to the door.

'See y' Cordy', Doyle looked up from his paper to watch her go by, he would have gone with her, asked her to go with him for a drink, but he wanted to wait for Angel to come home and check that he really was OK.

As she opened the door she screamed, and Doyle was forcibly reminded of the week before when she had bumped into Barney in the exact same spot. He twisted his body round on the sofa to get a good look at what was happening.

'Jeez Wesley, hover much?'

Wesley pushed inside and pulled Cordelia back in with him, he shut the door and glanced around the office 'Is Angel here?'

'No, what gives? Hey!' she noticed the sharp, wooden implement clutched in Wesley's hand. 'What the heck is that?'

'Exactly what it looks like.'

'You know, bud, bringin' a stake to a vampire's place of work isn't the friendliest thing in the world. It's the sort of thing that might give the wrong impression. Lead to misunderstandings, that sort o' thing.'

But Wesley wasn't in the mood to listen to the pair of them play around with him, like they had that morning. 'Remember earlier when I brought up the wrong post by mistake?' He proffered a newspaper clipping, 'That's when I saw this…'

Cordelia snatched the clipping out of his hand 'Oh my God!'

'Exactly!'

'You cut up Dr. Folger's paper? You're gonna get us kicked out of the building.'

Wesley sighed. 'No, read it Cordelia, both of you.'

Doyle scooched over on the couch so they could both sit down, as Cordelia brought the clipping over to him. They sat close, knee to knee, heads bowed together, reading the article that Cordelia held in her hand. If Cordelia's hand trembled a little as she sat with Doyle, it wasn't enough that anyone would notice.

'Third body found in Alley' read Doyle aloud

'So? Not exactly front page news is it?' Cordelia was impatient, she wanted to go home. Or she wanted Doyle to just grab her and kiss her. No, she definitely wanted to go home.

'Actually it is the front page.' Wesley was saying. 'But note the modus operandi. The mutilation of the corpse with a religious icon.'

Doyle and Cordy exchanged nonplussed glances: 'we're against it?'

Wesley started rooting in his bag, pulling out a large folder as he spoke, 'whilst fulfilling my duties as watcher, in Sunnydale, I did extensive research, specifically on Angel. Given his uncomfortable proximity to the slayer...'

Cordelia leant towards Doyle, 'he looked pretty comfortable to me', she whispered in his ear. Doyle smirked. Wesley handed them the folder. 'When I saw this story today it rang chillingly familiar, Angel, as Angelus, was known, In the 1700s, to mark his victims with a christian cross. Just like the woman who died last night.'

Cordelia stood up and faced Wesley, her arms crossed against her chest, her expression furious 'OK, you get to go now' she said.

'What?'

'Cordelia' Doyle interjected, but she turned to give him a furious glare, as well, before turning back on the hapless Wesley. 'Angel is good now, and he's our friend. And it doesn't matter how many horror stories you have of what he got up to back in the powdered wig days we're not gonna turn on a friend.'

'He's right, Cordelia', said Angel from across the office, having slipped in unobserved. Wesley whirled round, shielding Cordelia from the vampire and holding up a cross. 'You stake him, I'll cut off his head!' Cordelia squealed.

'Cordelia!' Doyle interjected again 'I think that might be a bit hasty, yeah?'

'You never met Angelus, Doyle, you don't know what you're talking about. He killed my computer science teacher. And one time he killed all of Willow's fish and then posted them back to her in an envelope. For fun!'

'Don't come any closer' Wesley demanded, waving his cross in Angel's face, Angel turned away from it. 'I'm not going to hurt you.'

'Ha! Is that what you told Miss third body found in alley?'

'Cordy!' Doyle's voice had taken on a warning tone, he had moved towards the edge of the sofa and was leaning forward, watching Angel intently.

'If I was going to hurt you I would have already.' Angel grabbed Wesley's arm and squeezed until Wesley was forced to drop the cross. 'Right' said Wesley holding up his hands 'we're listening.'

'I have no memories of doing these things.'

'Not exactly the confidence inspiring denial I was looking for there, boss.' Cordelia told him. Angel moved across to lean on the desk, Doyle's eyes followed him as he went, still watching him keenly. 'I've been having … dreams', Angel said, ' Killing dreams, always the same'. He kept his voice low and his eyes fixed on the floor, as if he couldn't face looking at his friends whilst he talked about the murders he had committed in his mind. 'I stalk them, toy with them, mark them before I kill them. And then just before they die from their fear, I feed on them.'

'So, you're having nightmares, then', said Doyle, 'everyone has those, you ever had the one where you're in the freezer section, at the store, and you look down and you realise you haven't got...'

'They're not nightmares' Angel interrupted. 'I've enjoyed them.'

'Oh'. His three friends looked at each other, concerned.

'Are you afraid that these might be more than just dreams? That you're really killing people in a hypnagogic state?'

'Hypnowagic?' Cordelia asked.

'Sleep walking.'

'Pfft. Angel can't sleep walk, he'd take one step outside and his little flannel pyjamas would burst into flames.'

Doyle thought back to that morning and Angel's state of undress; in all his gleaming, rippling glory, and wished that he'd thought of little flannel pyjamas as a Christmas present. But also he thought of the terrible, confused, irritable state he'd found him in. 'But what if he went out during the pre dawn hours?' he asked.

'Which is when all these murders have occurred' added Wesley.

'I guess there's just one way to find out.'

Cordelia was not happy about having to chain Angel to his bed. 'Look at my glamorous L.A life' she complained 'I get to make the coffee and chain the boss to the bed.'

'I think that's tight enough, Cordelia' Angel winced.

'And if you're back on the liquid lunch? Better safe than cocktails.' She pulled even tighter. Angel sighed deeply. When she was finished she took off, claiming she did not want to hang around if Angel was back on the juice, leaving Doyle and Wesley to keep watch over the slumbering vampire. They took it in turns, one to sit with Angel for a couple of hours, one to get some rest on the couch. It was better than it would have been if one of them had had to take the entire night by himself, but it was still a long, uncomfortable and surprisingly boring night. Doyle would have thought that making sure your boss hadn't become a homicidal monster would have at least held a frisson of excitement. But Wesley had told him that 90% of the vampire slaying game was waiting, and as the wee hours crawled on, Doyle had to admit that the British man was right. Angel slept on, but fitfully. He seemed to be dreaming, Doyle wondered if he was dreaming of death.

In Angel's mind a girl in a long dress and bonnet ran down the cobbled street. She knocked desperately on a door but it was locked. She was grabbed from behind and a metal finger tip was placed on her lips, before carving a cross onto her cheek. 'Now then' Angelus said 'isn't that better?'

'Great news sports fans! There's been another killing!' Doyle rolled off the sofa he had been sleeping on; over by the bedside Wesley was jerking awake, as if he had been snoozing on the job. Cordelia was waving a paper, excitedly. 'I mean it's not so great for the, you know, dead person, but it means Mr. Oh so tortured over there is off the hook.' She turned to Angel, her smile big and bright. 'You didn't do it.'

'Yes I did.'