Drinking and Maths

Angel was distracted.

This was not a good thing when speaking with a Traxian, whose language was so complex that one syllable could change an entire paragraph of friendly greetings to a tirade of hostile insults. Angel made sure to nod to indicate that he understood, even though he was simultaneously wondering exactly what the Doctor's calculations were telling him about the location of the TARDIS. And Judith.

"I'd like another!" the Doctor called from the booth at the back of the Dragon's Crown. He tapped the table next to the sheet of paper that he'd actually ordered at the bar. Angel had tried to look like he didn't know him.

"No, of course," Angel replied to the Traxian, devoting every last ounce of attention he had to conjugating his verbs correctly. "Your shipment will have safe passage through my sewers. So long as you keep your end and none of your people go above ground during transit, there won't be a problem."

"Excellent," the Traxian replied. "My gratitude to you. May your nights be filled with jewels like stars and your days be filled with gold like the sun."

"The same to you," Angel replied, standing up. They shook hands and the Traxian lumbered off.

"Angel! You have to see this!" the Doctor called. "It's possibly the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Several of the Dragon's Crown's patrons turned to look at Angel, and he hastily glared at the Doctor. He made a point to finish the last bit of whiskey in his glass and nod to Marty for another one before making his way over to the Doctor's table. Angel did not sit down when he reached it, but instead leaned over as if he were only vaguely interested and humoring the Doctor.

Come on, he had his reputation to maintain, which had been gasping on its deathbed since he'd agreed to See for the Powers That Be. He had been half-expecting a revocation of his membership to weekly kitten poker games for years, now.

"What?" Angel asked.

The Doctor slid his piece of paper across the table so Angel could look at it. It was covered in lines upon lines of circles. "This," the Doctor said, pointing to the middle of the page, "just look at it! I haven't had to do maths this complicated in years. It's a work of art, Angel, it really is."

Angel continued to glare at the Doctor, the bit of hope that the Doctor might finally tell him when and where Judith went deflating rapidly. He stood up again and turned to find the Kong-Gai that was supposed to report back to him about the Mird he was trying to track for going after humans just a few blocks from his flat.

"Marty! You are a hero, my good man," the Doctor said behind him. Apparently Marty had been kind enough to locate more paper for the Doctor to work on. "Keep 'em coming, my friend. Keep 'em coming."

Angel took the whiskey that Marty handed to him with a grateful nod and considered downing it all at once.

"I've changed my mind," the Doctor said. "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Angel swallowed his shot whole and promptly remembered why he hated doing that with whiskey. He shuddered and handed the glass back to Marty.

"Another, sir?" Marty asked.

Angel screwed up his face a bit and shook his head.

"Very good," Marty said, then left.

The Kong-Gai was not in at the moment, so Angel went to sit at the bar and ended up nursing an ice water just to have something to drink. Angel glared at the bottles on the wall across from him. Not because he was particularly angry at the bottles, but because he had been perpetually glaring all evening and the bottles simply happened to be in the way.

He missed Judith.

Angel was not expecting this. He did not like things he did not expect.

It was the third day since she'd been gone-hardly their longest separation; in fact, several days (or even several weeks) normally passed between seeing each other. Angel glared harder at the bottles, as if trying to convince them instead of himself that he was worried because she was his friend, and not because she was...whatever she was now. If this had all happened two weeks ago, before they had...they had...he would be the exact same amount of worried.

He nodded sharply at the bottles of alcohol as if to say, So there.

Or perhaps it was the not knowing that made him so anxious. Sure, the Doctor claimed she was still safe in the TARDIS and on her way back to them at that moment, but Angel didn't completely trust the Doctor on this, and with good reason. After all, the TARDIS had a vicious side, too, and the Doctor had a little problem with honesty.

Angel let out a long, slow breath. He hated not being able to do anything. If the Doctor didn't bring him some good news soon, he was going actually try to extend the standard locator spell to include time. He thought he'd mostly figured it out - replace the map with a clock and the salt with sand - but it was the bit between "mostly" and "certainly" that he was worried about. He would rather not blow up his flat, if he could help it.

The Kong-Gai Angel had been waiting for slid into the seat next to him and ordered a cherry martini. Angel was glad they weren't acknowledging each other for this particular transaction: He was too distracted to put much energy into conversing.

Angel waited while the Kong-Gai let a few minutes pass before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and choosing one to light. Angel finished his water, letting the Kong-Gai enjoy his first few drags, then asked if the Kong-Gai could spare one.

"Better yet," the Doctor said, leaning in and putting an arm around both Angel and the Kong-Gai, "do you have a spare pencil? The eraser's gone on mine."

Angel had to work very hard to suppress the urge to punch the Doctor.

"Doctor," Angel growled.

"I know you don't have one,' the Doctor admitted. "Just wanted to include you...but you, sir," the Doctor turned to the Kong-Gai. "You look like a chap with a pencil. I've got a seventh sense about these things."

The Kong-Gai stared at the Doctor in bewilderment for a moment, and then reached inside its coat pocket and withdrew a No. 2 pencil. He held it up for the Doctor.

The Doctor grinned and clapped the Kong-Gai on the back. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed, snatching the pencil. "And No. 2. A man of taste, I see. The classics never really get old. Thank you." The Doctor spun away and returned to his corner where he slid into the booth and leaned over the paper again.

Angel gave a half-sigh, half-growl. "I'm going to kill him," he muttered.

"I thought he was under your protection?" the Kong-Gai asked quietly, without looking at Angel. "You had it spread all over town."

Angel had, the night before. He'd been irritated at the Doctor, but Angel wasn't so petty as to not extend the same protection to the Doctor as he did all of his friends just because he was annoyed and worried and in pain.

Well, okay, sometimes Angel was that petty, but he also wanted to keep things in his control, and things stayed in control when the Doctor wasn't messed with.

Angel glared at the Kong-Gai. "He's not safe from me," he said. "I'll kill him if I want to."

The Kong-Gai shifted nervously and handed Angel a cigarette, which actually contained a message instead of tobacco, which Angel would read later. Angel took it and stowed it in his inside coat pocket. He paused. "Spare another one?" he asked, and the Kong-Gai obliged, with a real one this time.

Angel set several bills on the table as if paying for his tab, which the Kong-Gai would later slip into his pocket as if stealing. It was a well-practiced method they had, and the Doctor had just ruined the stealth of it all.

"He gave us a reason to talk," the Kong-Gai clicked quietly in his own language. "Seemed kind of nice to me..." He hunched over his ashtray, as if afraid that Angel would retaliate.

Angel hesitated for a moment, guilt seeping into all the other unpleasant emotions within him. Merl, the parasite demon Angel used to buy (and torture) information from centuries ago, flashed up in Angel's mind, the guilt matching. It got worse as he remembered Merl's remains splattered all over his sewer apartment.

Angel glanced at the Kong-gai and replied, also quietly in the Kong-gai's language, "He is a nice guy. Just don't spread it around that I think so."

The Kong-gai's mouth twitched in acknowledgement, and Angel left, feeling a little less guilty.

The Doctor was still pouring over his circles when Angel slid into the seat opposite him.

"What'cha trading, over there?" the Doctor asked, his new pencil running along the edges of a circle. He flipped the pencil over and erased one of the smaller circles inside of it and redrew it halfway out of the larger circle, like it was trying to escape.

"Information," Angel replied, choosing a match from the book on the table and lighting it.

"Love...information," the Doctor said, his voice trailing off momentarily in concentration as the circles poured farther down the page. "He seemed nice," he commented as he seemed to reach another stopping point.

Angel shook the match out after his cigarette had lit and took a deep breath, relaxing for the first time all evening. "I hadn't noticed," Angel replied. He had known the Kong-Gai for several years and had hired him to find a wide range of people, things, and bits of information for him, and their relationship had remained strictly professional. "Until now."

"That's too bad," the Doctor said. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and looked at it for a moment. He put it back and glanced down at the paper. "No..." he mumbled to himself and erased a bump in another circle. "So we adjust for the planetary gravitational pull..."

Angel leaned back in his seat and watched the Doctor while he smoked his cigarette. Angel half-wondered if the Doctor was going to end up driving him to pick up the habit completely again if he stayed much longer.

Not that there wasn't something fascinating about the Doctor. Angel had always prided himself on his own ability to read people, but the Doctor often remained just outside of his grasp, and that set Angel on edge.

For instance, the Doctor was a puppy. He acted like one, and Angel could almost always expect him to act that way. He should have anticipated that the Doctor would come blundering happily into his conversation and request a stick.

But.

The Doctor leaned a bit closer to the paper, his pencil filling in the larger circles with smaller ones and as he did, the mask slipped and Angel could see the the intelligence in his eyes, the seriousness of his expression, and the precision in his movements.

Angel liked masks. He wore one himself. Angelus liked to tear them off other people.

But he didn't really like masked people living with him and messing with his carefully-laid social structures and routines. Especially not when he was that worried his own mask was slipping. It was Angel's experience that masked people tended to take advantage of the vulnerable, and though the Doctor had always acted in a trustworthy, I-really-do-want-to-save-everybody manner, Angel knew that there was something dark underneath that. He was positive that the Doctor was going to keep surprising him, and he didn't know if those surprises were going to be pleasant or horrifying.

"Earth," the Doctor said suddenly, flipping over the paper to glance at the calculations on the other side.

"What?"

The Doctor flipped the paper over again, scanning it over quickly. "Earth." He breathed a sigh of relief. "She's on Earth. Look." He pointed at the paper, running his finger along a circle and Angel leaned over to look. "Some of this would have dissipated more quickly if she'd made a planetary jump. The space between planets disperses temporal energy." The Doctor moved his finger to the next circle, "And this one..."

"I got it," Angel said, intensely relieved. He gave a small smile. "She's on Earth," he repeated. Angel looked up. "When?"

"Er..." the Doctor said, squinting at the paper, "Somewhere between...the 16th and 27th..."

"Today's the 28th," Angel interrupted.

"...centuries," the Doctor finished, looking like he was regretting it already.

Angel's shoulders fell. "Oh." He cursed under his breath. At least Genghis Khan and dinosaurs were out.

"I'll be able to get a better estimate with another measurement," the Doctor said quickly.

Angel sighed. "Another 24 hours?"

"36. The ripples get bigger as they move out."

Angel cursed again and wondered if the Furies might have any connections with useful deities. He was due a visit to them anyway. And then it occurred to Angel like a slap to the head that he had another source: one that was actually in his physical head. Why hadn't the Powers sent him a vision about this? He'd been working for them for 15 years, now, didn't he earn courtesies like that? He took a deep drag of his cigarette.

"Mmm..." the Doctor agreed, tracing over a particularly bumpy circle.

"So what will you do in the meantime?" Angel asked, watching him.

The Doctor curled the edge of the paper up and flattened it again. "Well...I'll..." the Doctor looked around like he'd find something to do in the Dragon's Crown.

"Mm-hm," Angel said. He thought so.

The Doctor sniffed. "What are you going to do, then?" he said huffily.

Angel shifted in his seat and took another drag before replying, "I don't know yet." It was true. He had yet to decide how he was going to contact the Powers in any way beyond shouting at the sky, and if (more like when, Angel thought realistically) they wouldn't help, he would need to decide which book he was going to consult if the locator spell failed.

"Tell me if you figure it out," the Doctor said, folding the papers in half and tucking them neatly into his pocket.

"Right," Angel said, about as truthfully as the Doctor whenever he said it. He flicked off some ash into the ashtray a bit more deliberately than normal. The word 'Arcadia' floated to mind.

"Right," the Doctor agreed, watching him from across the table.

Angel shifted again. "So… Now what?"

"I didn't know you smoked," the Doctor said, ignoring (or possibly avoiding) Angel's question.

Angel glanced at the nearly burnt-out cigarette in his hand and realized he probably should have asked before lighting up. "Occasionally," Angel answered. "When I'm stressed. It's not like it kills me..." He leaned back in his seat. "Sorry if it bothers you."

The Doctor considered Angel and his cigarette for a long moment and then he leaned back and shrugged. "Makes sense..." he allowed. "And I don't mind. I don't think second hand smoke will kill me." There was an oddly dark twinkle in his eyes to go with the twitch of a smile.

Angel watched the expression curiously for a moment, but decided not to comment on it. He took a breath, "I used to smoke all the time in the '50's. The 1950's," he clarified, though he probably didn't need to. "But doing laundry all the time to get rid of the smell was...annoying. So I switched back to alcohol, as far as mind-altering substances go."

"How often do you need to alter your mind?"

"Need or want?" Angel asked.

"How often do you...really want," the Doctor decided. "Eliminate boredom as a reason."

Angel thought about his answer. It seemed odd that he'd never thought about his drug habits in any quantitative way. He just...did it when it seemed right. "A few times a week, I guess," he finally said. "If we're including when I 'really want' to be social. Poker nights, and such."

"Huh," the Doctor said. His fingers toyed with his pencil, rolling it along the table without looking at it.

Starting to feel judged, Angel shifted and asked, "What about you?"

"Oh, I always feel social," the Doctor said. "There isn't much that isn't improved by having a friend to share it with." He looked down at the pencil, his expression turning serious again. Angel had to wonder if his emotions were connected at all to what he was talking about and not just selected at random from an internal lottery.

Angel ground out the remains of the cigarette in the ashtray, regretting having lit it in the first place. Honestly, the Doctor had been sitting in a demon bar for most of an hour and hadn't ordered anything beyond paper to do maths on. He was obviously a teetotaler. And probably a… A whatever the smoking equivalent of a teetotaler was.

"Is that why you went back for Rose?" Angel asked, shoving the ashtray and the entire topic of mind-altering substances out of the way.

A smile pulled at the side of the Doctor's mouth. "I guess it was in a way. I knew I needed her. She certainly improved my life."

"Yeah?" Angel said, interested. "Can I ask how?"

The Doctor considered for just a moment and then tapped the pencil on the table twice before tucking it away in his jacket pocket. "Rose was...alive," he said with a smile that seemed equal parts wistfully happy and deeply sad. "She had this natural curiosity about everything and she'd just jump in. No matter how it looked. It made me see everything with new eyes again. I could think of places to go and it wasn't pointless because Rose hadn't seen it before. She woke me up." The Doctor reached up and adjusted the tilt of his bow tie with one hand.

Angel couldn't help but smile a little. He knew that feeling well. "Did you two have a thing?" he asked.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows slightly, his forehead wrinkling. "A...thing?" he said, like it was a word he didn't know.

"Yeah," Angel nodded. "A thing. Did you…?" He rolled his wrist, hoping that would convey his obvious meaning.

The Doctor watched Angel's hand suspiciously before suddenly inhaling. "I don't think...nah. No. Hey! This is a bar, isn't it?"

Standing abruptly, the Doctor waved across the bar. "Marty!" he called, "Marty! Might it be too much if I asked for an actual drink on top of all of that paper?" The Doctor bounded off to the bar, grinning and calling out questions about menus.

If that wasn't an indication that they definitely had, Angel didn't know what was.

He stood up and walked over to the bar to order another drink himself, nodding once to Marty to let him know he wanted the usual.

The Doctor was studying the menu intently. He flipped it over several times, examining the back of the paper like it might have held some sort of treasure map. He had spent less time reading that 300-page book.

"Er..." the Doctor said, flipping the paper over again, "I think...Shirley Temple. I met her once: surprisingly friendly given the section of the galaxy she came from."

Angel eyed the Doctor out of the corner of his eye. "Take it easy," he said, deadpan. "I don't want you retching all over my hardwood floors tonight." Also confirmed: the Doctor was definitely a teetotaler.

The Doctor grinned back at him and then returned to pestering Marty about what drinks came with little umbrellas as opposed to little swords. It turned out that Marty only had toothpicks, but the Doctor seemed willing to soldier on, nonetheless.

Angel took the drink that Marty gave him and gathered his thoughts while the Doctor chatted on to his neighbor, to Marty, and to no one in particular.

Angel wondered how the Doctor could speak for such long amounts of time hardly sparing a breath. If Angel tried to do that, his words would eventually become his thoughts out loud (he knew this from experience with Cordelia), bypassing the careful filter he very purposefully maintained just so the world would not have to hear his thoughts and so he wouldn't have to see the world's reaction if it did.

Angel was quite sure that the Doctor maintained a similar filter for similar reasons. So where did all this fluff about the unusual pets of Traxatoria come from?

"To pterogons!" the Doctor enthusiastically clinked glasses with his neighbor, the Traxian that Angel had been talking with earlier. "Loyal to the end...of their feeding trough."

The Traxian laughed uproariously (there was actually some roaring), and cracked his pint of beer against the Doctor's glass before downing the whole thing. Also laughing, the Doctor turned to Angel and offered his glass to clink.

Angel did automatically and was about to drink when his phone rang, startling him with the buzzing in his back pocket and on the ring on his left middle finger. He pulled his Palm from his pocket so he could answer without speaker phone and saw that William was calling him.

"Damn, I forgot," he muttered to himself. He answered and pressed the device to his ear. "Hey, Will," Angel said, "your mother's missing."

"Yeah, Angel have you heard from- missing?" Will said, his voice went from trying-to-stay-calm to totally-not-calm in an instant. "Where is she? I'll come down. What happened?"

"No, you don't have to," Angel said quickly. "She's-" But then Angel remembered that his confidence in the Doctor's assertions that she was 'fine' and 'on Earth' and 'probably coming home soon' was middling at best. He wondered how much he should lie to keep William calm or if he should actually tell William to come down and help him magic Judith home. Then he remembered how the Doctor had once referred to Judith as 'Angel's girlfriend,' and kept giving him knowing glances when her name came up (or was Angel just imagining that?) and that was not how Angel wanted William to find out that he was sleeping with his mother. If at all. So Angel said,

"She's completely fine, Will. She should be back any day now. Don't worry about her at all, okay? We've got this."

The Doctor turned from his joking and looked at Angel questioningly.

"Back from where?" Will said. His tone was the same level of quietly demanding that Judith's usually was when she wanted a precise answer to one of her questions and wouldn't accept any substitutes.

"Uhh-" Angel glanced back at the Doctor warily. "She kinda stole a spaceship that also travels in time," he mumbled like divulging a secret. "Or a timeship that also travels in space?" He raised a questioning eyebrow at the Doctor. "She's definitely on Earth. Apparently."

"She will be on Earth," the Doctor corrected. "Right now she's in the Time Vortex, which isn't so much a location as a, well, if location were a point, then the Vortex would be a vector but, you know, not...like that at all. If it helps."

Angel rolled his eyes as William asked, "Who is that?"

"The guy who owns the ship," Angel replied. "Look, Will, we're working on finding her, okay? I'll let you know if we need help."

"Okay," William said, sounding uncertain. "It would have been nice to know, you know." Angel made a noise of agreement, but before he could come up with the words to apologize, William continued, his words catching up with his thoughts, "Well, at least now I know why she hasn't been answering… So how long has she been...uh...in the Time Vortex?"

"A few days," Angel replied. "The calculations and - uh - measurements and whatever apparently take a while…" He shot a glare at the Doctor like it was his fault that physics worked the way it did. The Doctor winced, like he was at least embarrassed by physics working the way they did.

"A few days?" William repeated. "What about work? Have you called her in sick?"

Angel cursed under his breath again. "I'll go talk to her boss," he promised. "I'll...come up with something."

"Oh, tell her she won a free cruise!" the Doctor suggested. Pleased with his answer, he sipped his drink.

"That would never work," Angel said at the same time as William laughed. "Judith's way too responsible to just take off without telling anyone. Now, who could be dying…?"

"Maimeó," William said immediately. "She could be dying."

"Yeah," Angel agreed. "Yeah, that sounds good. Where does she live again?"

"Limerick," William replied. "And that works really well since my uncle just died, too: it's extra traumatic. I mean...you know, in a sad way…"

"Right, of course," Angel agreed again. "Nice and tragic."

The Doctor nodded along with the plan.

"I'll keep you updated," Angel promised. William thanked him, and they hung up.

Stuffing his Palm back in his pocket, Angel glanced at the Doctor and said, "Judith's son. Forgot to warn him she wouldn't be answering her phone..."

The Doctor nodded again. "We'll get her back," he said seriously. "I promise."

Angel was caught between wanting to seriously thank the Doctor (because it was oddly reassuring to hear it when the Doctor wasn't acting like a complete child) and not wanting to look like he was as anxious as he was about it. So he shrugged like it was no big deal, said "Thank you," like it kind of was a big deal, and added to round out the mixed-signal-giving, "She's not my girlfriend."

"Of course not," the Doctor agreed with an expression so overly serious Angel was pretty sure he'd come to the exact opposite conclusion. The Doctor added a little bob of his head with a little smile that completely confirmed that he thought Angel was dating Judith and was just trying to not mention it out loud.

Annoyed, Angel added, "I don't even know where you got that idea."

The Doctor shrugged innocently. "I pay attention," he said. He sipped at the pink Shirley Temple and set it down on the bar. "I think she's great. Anyone who would steal a TARDIS has great taste."

A knot twisted in Angel's stomach and he turned toward his drink, wrapping both hands around the glass. For the past few weeks, he'd been trying to drown his low-key panic that he kept initiating these encounters with Judith - despite his own ground rule before the first one that it be just the one time - with the thrill of something new and unexpected happening. It was getting harder and harder to keep that panic underwater when he could no longer indulge the thrill and when the Doctor kept hauling it up like this; talking about it like it was anything near intentional or normal, like they'd simply fallen in love and it was still new.

But Angel wasn't about to tell the Doctor any of that - not when he hadn't even had the courage to bring it up with Judith. So he said a strained, "Yeah," and took a deep sip of his scotch.

They sat in silence, which wore on the Doctor as much as it calmed Angel. He fidgeted. "What about vacation though?" he said out of the blue.

Angel raised an eyebrow.

"Why can't Judith be on vacation?" the Doctor asked. Apparently, in the silence, he'd started to work on the last problem presented to him.

Angel grunted. "She wouldn't just win a cruise and not tell anyone."

The Doctor tapped at the side of his glass. "I had a friend who did office work," he said.

Angel had a hard time believing that anyone who "did office work" was actually the Doctor's friend. Angel interpreted this as the Doctor having spoken at an office worker long enough that he had assumed that they were friends.

But the Doctor seemed excited by his idea now. He leaned forward. "And she used to say that so long as it's on the records, no one can argue about it. There's records for everything, Angel. You know, when people are on vacation and off having adventures and things. Really useful information sometimes. Most of the time I can't be bothered, but it was nice to have. There was this time where we figured out an alien invasion because Donna said no one was taking any sick days."

The Doctor took a breath like he was about to explain the alien invasion.

Angel held up his hand. "Point?" he asked.

Deflating, the Doctor let out his invasion-storytelling breath and inhaled some more serious air. "We pop into the hospital computer system and tell it that Judith isn't on the schedule. She's on vacation."

It seemed too simple. But the more Angel thought about it, the more he liked it. He wouldn't have to explain anything to anyone. Just leave the lie to the cold, hard "facts" of a schedule on a computer. "Can you do that?" he asked.

The Doctor spread his arms and grinned. "I'm the Doctor," he said. "I think I can fudge a few numbers on a calendar."

For the first time, all of the Doctor's constant fussing with technology seemed less useless. Angel leaned forward too. "So...what do we do? Go to the hospital? Hack into the system?"

The Doctor held out his hand. "Give me your Palm," he said.

Angel handed over the device from his pocket, leaving the ring in place on his finger. The Doctor asked a few questions about where Judith worked and after a moment held up the screen to show Angel the hospital web page. "That's the one," Angel said.

With this confirmation, the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and directed it at the Palm. He squinted at the screen as it quickly flashed through pages. "I don't understand why HR is so complicated," the Doctor complained.

"Maybe because it's human resources?" Angel guessed. Humans seemed to complicate everything.

"Must be," the Doctor agreed. Some additional prodding later and he said, "Ah! Got it! Schedules. How about a...week. Two?" he looked up at Angel. "Can't be more than two," he said quickly.

"Do you really think it'll take two weeks to find her?" Angel asked, his heart sinking at the prospect.

"No! Definitely not," the Doctor said, looking back down at the Palm. "I'm going to make it two just in case," he said under his breath. A minute later he slid his sonic screwdriver back into his jacket pocket and slid Angel's Palm back across the table.

"That's it?" Angel asked, blinking at his phone. "That was easy."

The Doctor shrugged. "Sure. Now the computer thinks Judith is on vacation. It should convince everyone else for us. Assuming they're not paying too much attention." He sipped his drink and set it aside. "Hopefully they don't have a Donna. She explained to me once how rude it was to take too much vacation at one time. I don't remember how much that was though. I sort of...tuned it out."

Chuckling, Angel replied, "You? Tune someone out? Meaning someone else out-talked you? That's very impressive."

The Doctor laughed, nodding with a wistful smile. "Yeah," he said, "she was great."

Angel played idly with his Palm where it still rested on the counter and something else occurred to him. "If people are trying to call her…" he said slowly, "and not getting through…" He picked up his Palm, dialed Judith's number, and held it to his ear. It went straight to voicemail. Angel hung up before the beep and looked at the Doctor. "Can you forward her messages to me? Just in case there's anyone else we have to...change her schedule for, so to speak? Something we haven't thought of?"

The Doctor nodded again. "Sure," he said. Angel passed the Palm back and the Doctor set to work with his sonic screwdriver again. Several passing demons gave them dirty looks at the noise, but didn't comment. "It's a bit invasive," the Doctor said, passing the Palm back. "But so's stealing my TARDIS I guess."

"I think she'll understand the practicality of it," Angel said. "I hope. I just want to feel like we've got some control over something."

Letting out a sigh, the Doctor lifted his glass and set it down again. He pushed it aside. After a quiet moment he smiled. "Hey," he said, still grinning, "I think for the first time in my life, I've done the paperwork on time."

"Congratulations," Angel told him, lifting up his glass in a toast. "That's some accomplishment."

The smile grew, lighting up the Doctor's face. He clapped a hand on Angel's shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. "So," he said, "do you want to get out of here?"

Angel turned and raised an amused eyebrow at his phrasing. "Sure, doll. My place or yours?"

The Doctor blinked, clearly missing the joke. "Uhh...yours?" he said.

Angel deflated a bit. "I swear I used to be funny," he murmured. He raised his glass to his lips and finished his drink before standing up.

Leaving his glass half-finished on the bar, the Doctor took a few steps toward the door before he turned to say goodbye to Marty and several other 'friends' he'd made at the bar. And several people who'd only just arrived.

Angel did his best to glower respectably as they left.


In the past 15 years, on the rare occasion that Angel needed to contact the PTB directly, he called Cordelia. "Call" was more of a metaphorical term, since Cordy lived in a parallel dimension and that was just a little far for their phones to connect, but she had given him a little device about the size and shape of a river-worn stone, only deep purple and translucent. He could murmur a certain set of words in a language he didn't know to this stone and it would glow softly, causing its pair with Cordy to glow, too. She had promised to come as soon as she saw it glowing, assuming she wasn't on mission.

But calling Cordelia to come be his direct conduit for the PTB so that he could ask them how to rescue the woman he was currently sleeping with was just a little much for Angel to handle just then.

So Angel did his own fact-finding and struck home on his first attempt. Remembering that the access portal in L.A. had been under the post office, he decided to poke around underneath the post offices of Galway in search for similar access points.

He brought the Doctor with him. He wouldn't necessarily have chosen to bring the Doctor with him, but the Doctor was there (always there) and asked what Angel was up to as he put on his coat to go out, so Angel invited him along, figuring he could probably help search, if nothing else.

They were all the way in Old Town before the Doctor stopped chatting long enough to ask where they were going, having enthusiastically agreed to going out without knowing where.

"The oldest post office in Galway," Angel replied. "Actually, it might be the only post office. Pretty much everything is digital these days… Except those damn coupon fliers…"

"You know someone even delivered one to the TARDIS once," the Doctor said, sounding impressed. "They, uh, had a dollar off fish fingers." He added this bit as a point of interest, Angel had to assume because he could not imagine the Doctor managing to have enough followthrough to clip a coupon, remember to bring it to the correct store at the correct time, and then remember what he was in the store for long enough to make a purchase.

Also, Angel wasn't sure the Doctor knew how money worked.

"The postal service does have a reputation to maintain for getting people's mail to them…" Angel replied, steering the conversation away from coupons. He was amazed that something had actually gotten delivered to that ship. "Hey! What if we mailed something to Judith and...you know...followed it?"

"A good plan," the Doctor said sagely, "but they'd just wait for the TARDIS to show up in the future. They play the long game." He added this last bit with a hint of admiration.

Angel deflated. "Oh. I guess it was a long shot." They paused in front of the post office; a building so old the brick was crumbling. There was a plaque out front describing its historical significance to passersby, which the Doctor read with some interest. The inside of the building was dark, but it had been built before the kind of sewer systems that Angel could walk around in, so there wasn't really an "underneath" with this post office, but it was worth a poke around the outside.

"Okay," Angel said, looking at the building and decided to head for the tiny alley just to its right, "let me know if you find anything weird."

The Doctor nodded, his eyes darting over the building again before he followed Angel into the alley with his hands tucked into his pockets. The alley was so narrow they could barely walk without twisting their shoulders slightly, and Angel noticed nothing unusual until he came out to the courtyard behind the building.

It was paved with brick and there was a picnic table, a trash can, and a garden bed with a few bushes and dead weeds. There was something back here that made the hairs on the back of Angel's neck stand up, but he couldn't pinpoint what or where. He headed further into the courtyard to investigate.

A few steps in an ear splitting screech sounded behind him. It took a second for Angel to peg the sound as the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. Wincing, he turned to watch the Doctor turn, pointing it around the garden. It finally stopped and the Doctor examined the tip like it was giving him a readout.

He sniffed and dropped it to his side. "Sort of...ozone-y back here," he commented.

"Feels tingly, too," Angel agreed. "Anything with the garden?"

The Doctor nodded between two old gnarled trees. "That's...reading as more normal than everything else. Suspiciously...normal."

Angel turned toward the trees and approached them. The hairs on his neck prickled again. He noticed a small stone birdbath set between the trees and recognized the worn Greek lettering etched into the rim. "Gateway for lost souls…" He grinned. "This is it." Withdrawing the bag of herbs he'd prepared from his inside pocket and approaching the birdbath, he said to the Doctor, "This shouldn't take too long."

"What exactly?" the Doctor asked as he tucked the sonic screwdriver into his breast pocket. "Is there a signal if something goes wrong and I need to go in after you?"

"Well, from what I understand, I'm jumping into a different realm," Angel replied, scooping leaves and other debris out of the birdbath, "so I think getting a signal back would be difficult." He paused, looking back at the Doctor. He was both a warrior and pure of heart - purer than Angel's, at least. (Well, he had to be, didn't he? He wasn't part-demon.) "You could come if you like. I'm just going to ask my boss some questions. Shouldn't be dangerous."

There was a tiny part of Angel that worried that he'd been downgraded himself, now that he was a Seer and not a Champion. Doyle hadn't been able to come with him his first time to see the oracles, after all. But Angel thought he probably would have been warned by the Powers if he was seeking them through improper and dangerous channels, so he was going to go for it.

The Doctor brightened at the offer. "The boss?" he said, sounding impressed. "Yeah! Let's go talk to the boss."

Angel jerked his head for the Doctor to come stand next to him, which the Doctor did with an important swagger like a child pretending to be a cowboy. Angel held back a sigh and tossed small handfuls of the herbs he'd brought into the birdbath, saying, "We come before thee, Oracles, for guidance and direction. We beseech access to the Knowing Ones." Then he struck a match, tossed it in, and the entire contents of the basin went up in flames. There was a bright flash of white light and suddenly, they were no longer in the courtyard.

They were standing in a room of marble, a few steps and columns in front of them. In fact, Angel was pretty sure it was the exact same room he had been in before. In front of them stood a humanoid figure with gold and blue skin. Angel recognized him as the same one he and Connor had talked to after Connor's destiny had been taken.

"What have you brought me?" the oracle asked.

Angel dug into his pocket and pulled out a small jade tiger. "From the lost collection of Su Wen," Angel said.

The tiger zoomed out of Angel's hand and the oracle inspected it. "I have always enjoyed tigers," the oracle said in an airy, mystical voice. "Hobbes is my favorite." He pocketed the figurine. "What brings you here, Seer?"

"I'm seeking information," Angel replied. "There is a ship that's stuck in the time vortex. I want to know how to pull it out."

The oracle's mouth twitched and his eyes flicked to the Doctor. "I believe you already have all of the information you need," he replied. "I never thought I would get to meet a Time Lord…"

"We keep to ourselves," the Doctor said, taking in the architecture, tucking his hands in his pockets. "I love your setup. It's...secluded."

"Thank you," the oracle said, seeming genuinely flattered. "I didn't design it, but I did add my own flair here and there…"

"Have you been to Greece, or are you just a fan?" the Doctor asked. He wandered over to a pillar, ran a hand down it, and then rubbed his fingers together.

"We made first contact with the women of Delphi," the oracle replied. "This was to make them feel comfortable, and there was apparently no need to change…" The oracle said this in a way that made it sound like he'd lobbied for change and lost and was still bitter about it.

The Doctor made a face. "I would think that change is its own reward. Just because you slowed time doesn't mean you can't change the wallpaper."

"Yes, right?" the oracle agreed fervently. His eyes lit up briefly and then suddenly became aloof, and even started running his sandaled toe along the floor. "You, ah…aren't here to make a formal request about that, are you? Something I might need to take to management?"

The Doctor looked over his shoulder and then placed his hand on his chest. He frowned, considered, tipped his head and said, "Yeah, tell the management that I, as the last of the Time Lords, think that they should take more pride in their place of business."

The oracle cleared his throat seriously. "Yes, of course, I shall tell them that you said that straight away. Is there anything you would like to add? Perhaps regarding flying buttresses?"

The Doctor looked up at the ceiling. "They're..." he scanned the oracle's face, "...cool. Really cool right now."

The oracle nodded solemnly. "Duly noted," he said in a low, serious tone. "The Powers thank you for your suggestion."

"Okay," Angel said, having had enough of this, "what about my request?"

The oracle blinked at him. "I have told you. You have all the information you need." He gestured toward the Doctor. The Doctor smiled like this was a compliment.

"He doesn't have all the information he needs!" Angel protested, and the Doctor nodded in agreement.

"This is not a matter which concerns the order of balance," the oracle replied patiently. "There is no information that we could give you to help you in your side quest."

"Side quest?" Angel practically shouted.

"I mean, I'd really appreciate it if you could maybe give me a hint," the Doctor said.

The oracle looked over at him, and his expression melted into sympathy. "I would very much like to," he told the Doctor, "but since this doesn't concern the Powers That Be, they have not gathered any information for me to give you. I'm truly sorry."

The Doctor sighed. "Well, if you've done everything you can," he said understandingly.

The oracle nodded. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Time Lord. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will run your comments up to the head office straight away."

Without waiting for a response, there was another flash of bright white light, and Angel and the Doctor were standing in the courtyard again. Angel called the Powers something rude under his breath.

"He seemed nice," the Doctor said. "Too bad they don't have anything to add." He looked around the garden. "But if you've never been here, how do they give you work? Or is it more of a hands-off kind of boss?"

"It's more of a psychic kind of boss," Angel replied, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning to go. Angel realized that the Doctor hadn't been there since Angel became a Seer for the Powers That Be, so he added, "I'm actually a Seer now. I get visions of people in trouble and pass those visions on to- Well, to Calder. Used to be William, too, but he backed out of the Champion destiny."

The Doctor followed a few steps behind. "Well...neat!" he said after they'd gone a few steps. "That does take some of the mystery out of problem-solving doesn't it? Not that problems need mystery. It's more of a matter of personal preference."

Angel snorted. "No, they keep it plenty mysterious. Usually the vision is just, 'Go here at this certain time and the problem will present itself.' If there are any hints beyond that you know it's a major case."

The Doctor grinned, his eyes wide with excitement. "That's amazing! I love it! Do I?" he paused on the pavement. "I do," he decided. "It sounds like fun."

Angel paused, too, facing the Doctor. He had to think about whether or not he agreed. The decision had caused a fair amount of trouble for him, and he'd had to give up certain things in the underworld that he'd fought hard for. But then, sacrifice for the greater good was something Angel did almost compulsively. Looking back, once he'd realized it was an option, there was no way he wouldn't have taken it, even though it had hurt.

"It's purposeful," Angel eventually said. "And occasionally fun."

The Doctor slapped him on the shoulder. "Yeah it is!" he said. "Hey! How often do you get visions? We could probably solve a quick mystery before we turn in for the night."

Angel lifted his gaze up to the heavens and said, "Hear that? We've got some time… Anything?" He waited a moment before he looked back at the Doctor and shook his head. "Guess not."

The Doctor let out a breath, his breath creating a small cloud in the cold air. "You know, your boss really doesn't reward having a sense of initiative," he complained.

"Tell me about it," Angel sighed, turning to head back toward home.