As the gate to the freight elevator snapped upwards and Angel stepped onto the main floor of the building, the sound of an earsplitting shriek pierced him through. It was enough to cause the demon inside of him to stir, hopeful for a taste of blood – or at least a taste of violence. It was enough to cause every muscle in his body to tense. Immediately and instinctively, the more than two centuries old vampire was on the defensive, charging anxiously towards the source of the shriek.

Finding the source of the keening wail made him skid to a halt, torn between a desire to break into relieved laughter or to fall into his natural demonic face for the simple shock value of it.

Cordelia Chase bounced on the balls of her feet, a bright smile on her face. She held a slip of green paper by each of the corners and her smile seemed to grow even wider at the sight of Angel in the doorway. "It's a check!"

"Cordelia?" Angel prompted her for further explanation. He gave an annoyed groan as Doyle bumped solidly into him from behind, forcing him to brace himself in the doorway.

"What?" The former cheerleader and May Queen stared back with bright, laughing eyes. The smile did not wan or waver. "It's a real check from a real paying client. See, I told you that eventually if we helped the right person we would be suitably compensated. Ten thousand dollars compensated, by the way."

"Ten –" Angel couldn't manage to get the remainder of the words out. Ten thousand dollars was no small chunk of change, and usually the souls in need that he helped didn't have that kind of money to throw around.

Doyle made a more elaborate statement with a low whistle. The half-man/half-demon pushed past the vampire and made his way into the office. "Ten G's is a lot cash. Let me see that."

Cordelia snatched the check out of his reach. "Angel gets to see it first. He did all the work anyway."

"I had the vision. And the headache. Didn't I?"

Angel might have laughed at Doyle's indignation and confusion if he hadn't still been trying to come to terms with the idea that Cordelia held a check for ten thousand dollars in her hands. These days, it wasn't always Doyle's visions that led Angel to souls in peril; sometimes it seemed as though Angel simply found them – or they were drawn to him like a magnet.

"Who could afford to pay us that much?" Angel finally managed to form words. He made no move towards his 'secretary' or the check in her hands, although his eyes did scan it intently. From this distance, it appeared to be a legitimate cashier's check, but Angel didn't know if he could have spotted a forgery anyway.

"Remember that housewife who was afflicted with a case of beating-cheating-I'm-gonna-take-away-the-kids-and-kill-you-husband? Well—"

"She was living in a trailer park Cordelia," Doyle interrupted, "She didn't even have enough money for diapers and formula."

"If you will let me finish." Cordelia rolled her eyes in Doyle's direction before returning her attention to the vampire. "It turns out that her father is very rich. Or was very rich. Anyway, he died. But she didn't know that because she had kind of runaway to marry the sleaze-from-hell. Once you got her back on her feet and got him off of her back, she called Mommy. The check is from Mommy, with all of her gratitude for helping bring her daughter and her grandchildren home.

"The letter was very touching. I almost cried."

"See, this is exactly what I've been trying to tell you, Angel," Doyle sat down in the nearest seat and propped his feet up on the desk. "You never know who you may be helping or who's life you may touching."

Cordelia snorted, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "You're so very Hallmark. Make me gag, all ready."

Stepping forward hesitantly, Angel reached tentatively for the check. It was still a little too much to believe.

"Well, are you going to take it or just stare at it a while longer?" Doyle asked. "Because I think you need to get your hands on it so the little 'actress' over there can stop bouncing and then we can celebrate. On you, of course."

"You would celebrate if it was a check for ten dollars," Cordelia accused. Then she turned to her boss, prompting, "Angel?"

"Hey, you gotta have your reasons for creating a little joy."

Angel took the check and simply stared at it. "It seems a little – surreal."

"No, it seems like we've earned it," Cordelia leaned back against the desk, raising her eyes inquiringly, "Does this mean we can finally talk raise?"

Angel was spared the task of having to answer her as his ears registered the sound of the front door opening. Instinctively, he sniffed the air, and blinked a bit in surprise. The scent was human, but it was also familiar. He turned slowly towards the door as the figure came into view, less surprised than Cordelia by the individual he saw standing there.

"Giles?" Cordelia's surprised question was tinged with a note of excitement. Angel had always thought she was more homesick for Sunnydale than she would ever admit.

"Giles?" Angel gave the former Watcher and librarian a curt nod, his question different from Cordelia's. His eyes took in the rumpled tweed coat with a ripped sleeve, the slightly dishelved hair and the spot of blood on his shirt collar. The blood drew his attention the longest, the smell of it permeating the air, causing the demon to stir yet again. It was still fresh, although it was drying. It made Angel hungry and reminded him that he had not fed before coming up to the office this evening.

Rupert Giles nodded politely, although it did not escape Angel's finely tuned vampiric senses that the man's body still pulsed with adrenaline, that his heart beat quicker than normal and that his breathing was rapid. "Cordelia, Angel. I was hoping to find you here."

"You're in LA looking for Angel? What? Did the hellmouth open up again?"

Angel ignored Cordelia's prattle. "Something happened. Vampire." At Giles' questioning gaze, Angel flicked his eyes towards the man's throat in response. "You were bit."

"You were bit by a vampire? Can't you just get knocked out like you usually do?"

Giles' hand rose to touch the bite mark, although he seemed less than concerned about it. "That's nothing really."

"You really are from Sunnydale if you think that getting bit by a vampire is nothing," Doyle remarked from where he sat, reminding Angel of his presence.

The librarian became aware of him at the same time, his attention shifting to take in the other occupant of the room. "You must be Doyle. Oz mentioned you."

"Did he mention me?" Cordelia chimed in.

Giles touched his throat again. "Of course, Cordelia. I had to see it with my own eyes to believe it, however."

Enough was enough. Angel motioned Giles towards a chair. "Sit down. You need medical attention. Doyle, get the first aid kit. Cordelia," Angel paused, handing the check that he still held with the reverence that a Christian would hold the Holy Grail, back to her, "Put that in the lock box."

"We don't have a lock—" She stopped in mid-sentence as her eyes met Angel's and shrugged in surrender. "Whatever."

"You know, Angel, I'm offended that you trust her more than you trust me with that check," Doyle said as he passed the vampire and headed off in search of the first aid kit.

"Giles, what happened?" Angel took a seat across from the former Watcher, not daring to get too close to the man's personal space. Their relationship had remained forever awkward since he had been returned from hell – the reasons of which were still unknown to him. Things had not improved when the man learned that Angel had fed from Buffy Summers when he lay so near death. It didn't matter that Buffy had driven him to it, pulling forth the demon that was so intimately a part of Angel. Feeding from Giles' Slayer was nearly as unforgivable as the murder of Jenny Calendar.

Yet, they could put their differences aside when decorum – or saving the world – required it and this was apparently one of those times. Why else would Giles be here, with a fresh wound on his neck, seeking the aid of Angel?

"I came to LA to visit an old friend from my Oxford days," Giles sank wearily into the nearest chair, slowly – and painfully – pulling off his jacket. He pulled the glasses from his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully before continuing. "Amanda Skerrit, she's an archeologist, and also a student of the occult. Or at least she was."

"She's dead?"

"She is now," Giles closed his eyes for a moment and Angel watched a ripple of pain play across his face. Two hundred and forty odd years and several years of knowing Giles gave Angel all the information he needed. The bite on his throat came from his former friend; no doubt the dust on the shirt and jacket also came from her as well.

"What happened to her?" Cordelia had returned from her assigned task and sat down next to Giles. She frowned at him, "You know, that blood stain is never going to come out. Why do vampires have to be so messy when they bite anyway?" Her hazel eyes darted to Angel, "Well? Can't you be neat about it?"

"Cordelia, I hardly think that when a vampire bites they are much concerned with table etiquette. The victim is not supposed to survive the –" Giles stopped abruptly, blinking and shaking his head in slight exasperation. He dismissed her with a polite, "Never mind, it isn't important.

"Amanda had acquired the Book of Isiri," Giles directed his words towards the vampire. Something in Angel clicked and made a connection. He knew of the Book of Isiri; just as he had known of the Codex and the Gem of Amarra. Some things were just common knowledge to creatures of the supernatural and darkness. The powerful magicks locked up within that spellbook were not something that should fall into the wrong hands.

"That Book has been lost for – well for longer than I've been around," Angel noted.

"That's a pretty long time," Cordelia commented. "What are you? At least three hundred now?"

"Amanda found it. At least that what she told me when we talked," Giles easily ignored Cordelia. Angel imagined that it was simple enough to fall back into the old patterns of Sunnydale. "I was supposed to come down sooner to aid her in studying it and translating, however events on the hellmouth prevented my traveling until now.

"Fortunately, I feel that I couldn't have chosen a better weekend to do it. I am saved from listening to Buffy and Willow prattle on inanely about Homecoming."

"Homecoming? Buffy and Willow are going to Homecoming?" Cordelia asked with rapt interest. "What are they wearing? I mean, even I have to admit that Willow did pull off a very nice prom ensemble. And Buffy and I looked great at Homecoming senior year and –"

Angel interrupted Cordelia's babble before Giles died of old age and he died of boredom. "Cordelia, I'm sure that Giles is probably thirsty. Why don't you get him something to drink. And find Doyle."

"I'm here. Love how you keep this thing hidden in the bathroom," Doyle complained. The man dropped the first aid kit to the desk and opened it up.

"The bathroom is where it belongs," Cordelia pointed out.

"Oh, I should have known this was your handiwork."

Giles looked from one to the other, then cast a genuinely sympathetic glance at the vampire. "Are they always like this?"

"No, usually they're worse," Angel answered with a straight face and without missing a beat.

Blinking in surprise, the librarian stared at Angel for half a heartbeat. "A sense of humor. That's unexpected."

"He does that every now and then," Cordelia supplied. "It's LA. It's good for him. He doesn't spend nearly as much time going the whole broody and mopey and I'm-the-horrible-vampire-oh-stake-me-now-routine."

"I'd very much like that glass of water now, Cordelia."

"What, are you kidding? And let Doyle butcher you?" The brunette was on her feet in flash, pushing the half-man away from the first aid kit. "My friend would like a glass of water. I'll take care of this."

"Get the first aid kit, Doyle. My friend would like a glass of water, Doyle. Don't touch the check, Doyle," Doyle's mutterings followed him out of the office.

"You were saying?" Angel prompted the other man. "The Book of Isiri?"

"Oh yes," Giles shifted, obligingly tilting his head as Cordelia knelt beside his chair and began to wipe away the blood. Angel was grateful for the antiseptic smell that filtered from that direction, glad that the blood wouldn't be a source of distraction. "Amanda had it and I came to see it and hopefully take it back to Sunnydale. When I arrived at Amanda's I initially thought that place had been broken into. I found her in the kitchen and apparently, she hadn't fed recently."

"Ew," Cordelia complained, raising her eyes briefly from her task. "Your friend got vamped and bit you? How gross. And how incredibly rude."

Giles only gave the young woman a moment's consideration before continuing. "I had not choice but to destroy her. Anyway, I searched for the Book but didn't find it anywhere."

"Way to go, Giles. Stake a vamp and go through her underwear drawer."

"I did not—" Giles began a loud objection, then slumped his shoulders in silent defeat. In the familiar gesture of annoyance, he rubbed frantically at the bridge of his nose, much to Cordelia's dismay as she yelled at him to stay still. He stared plaintively at Angel. "I was hoping that perhaps you could help me find the Book of Isiri."

"The Book of Isiri?" Doyle reappeared, thrusting the glass of water towards the older man. "Here in LA? How'd that happen?"

"Giles had a friend. Who had the book. Who got vamped. Who tried to eat him –"

Angel interrupted. "Are you certain it wasn't at her apartment?"

"Well, I'll admit I didn't do a thorough search of the premises. I was afraid that our scuffle might have attracted some attention and I really didn't wish to have to explain myself to the LAPD. I thought that perhaps knowing the power structure here in LA, you might know who would have wanted to do this to Amanda – or would want the Book of Isiri."

"I'll bet you a drink that it didn't have anything to do with your friend Amanda and everything to do with the Book of Isiri," Doyle hopped up onto the desk.

Angel cut his eyes towards his 'partner.' "You're thinking Cordovan."

"Aren't you?" Doyle challenged. "He sent Derrick for the book, and Derrick left his mark."

At the sound of the other vampire's name, Angel gave a low growl. The demon stirred, striking once, then twice against the bars of its cage. Derrick had been a thorn in Angel's side since their first encounter. He was sly and devious, and it was no secret that he was Cordovan's right-hand man. It galled Angel that he had never been able to get close enough to the vampire to kill him; it also galled him that he had never been able to get close to Cordovan.

"Who is Cordovan? A master vampire?"

"No," Cordelia paused in bandaging Giles' throat. "He's a psychotic sociopath half-demon. Like Doyle. Minus the psychotic sociopath part."

Giles stared at Doyle, a flicker of fear and curiosity lighting his light eyes. "You're a demon?"

Doyle leveled a glare at the top of Cordelia's head. "No, I'm fully human on my mother's side of the family."

"Cordovan runs the show here in LA," Angel explained, feeling a temporary pang of sympathy and pity for Doyle. Giles would either avoid him like the plague now – or worry him incessantly with questions. Either way, his partner was in for quite a time of it. "He runs a gigantic corporation and hides behind his lawyers. They will do anything and everything it takes to keep his hands clean while he kills and destroys at his leisure."

"Lawyers? They work for him?"

"Wolfram and Hart, my friend," Doyle said helpfully. "All their clients are guilty of some crime or another, but you'd never be able to prove it. Gives a new meaning to the idea that lawyers are sharks."

"This is beginning to sound far more complicated than a routine seek and find in Sunnydale," Giles muttered.

"Welcome to the big city," Angel actually felt the corners of his mouth jerk into a wan smile. "We'll start looking for that book. We should probably make certain that it isn't at Amanda's apartment before I try to track it down to Cordovan."

"A little breaking and entering? You seem to have expanded your skills, Angel."

"Oh it's cool," Cordelia finished her work and stood. "Angel has an in with the police department. One of the undercovers has the hots for him."

This time it was Angel who leveled a glare in Cordelia's direction.

Before Giles could ask questions or Angel could clarify Cordelia's offhand statement, Doyle gave a pained shout and tumbled forward off the desk. The man clutched his head in with one hand, crying in agony, the other hand clutching the desk.

Giles was on his feet, a look of complete wariness on his face. "What's wrong with him?"

Angel was already kneeling beside his friend, offering support as Doyle struggled to cope with another of the visions. "He's having a vision."

"A vision?"

Cordelia nodded, this time there was no malice or sarcasm in her voice. Instead, she sounded subdued and a bit worried. "He gets these visions. Of people in trouble and then he and Angel – and I – go off and save them."

"Visions from?"

"The powers that be, whoever they are."

"The downside is, I also get splitting headaches to go along with them." Doyle drew a ragged breath, gripping Angel's arm tightly as he allowed the vampire to haul him to his feet. He staggered to the nearest chair and slumped into it, closing his eyes with a groan. He looked terrible – pale and haggard – but he never looked good after one of his visions left its mark on him.

"Fascinating," Giles murmured, studying the half-man/half-demon with an academic's eyes.

"You think so? You try havin' one or two of them," Doyle grumbled.

"What did you see, Doyle?" Angel knelt besides Doyle's chair.

"Yeah, anything about this weird book?"

Doyle shook his head, and then winced. He took another breath, opening his eyes slowly to focus on Angel. "It's a place, near south quad on UCLA's campus. Indigo Club. There's a girl there."

"What does she look like?"

"You're going to need more than a description, Indigo Club tends to be a hot spot on Thursday nights. I'll pick her out when we get there."

"I hate to interrupt but," Giles looked from Angel to Doyle and back again, "The Book of Isiri?"

Angel and Doyle exchanged a glance and Angel swallowed nervously. He rose to his feet, smoothing his hands on his black jeans. "We can do both. But I have to check this out Giles. This girl – whoever she is –"

"Her soul is in peril," Cordelia cut in. "Angel has to save her. That's what Doyle was sent to help him do. Hey, I know!"

Three sets of eyes actually looked at her, each in various states of questioning.

"I can go with Giles and search his friend's apartment while you guys go check out this club and this girl."

"I'm not sure that is such a good idea, Cordy," Angel stated. He noticed Giles' eyebrows raise at the use of Cordelia's nickname, but he ignored it. This wasn't Sunnydale anymore and there wasn't really a lot of time for argument or explanation.

"Hey, I shoot a mean crossbow, you know. And I'm with Giles. Watcher guy. Research guy. Ripper guy."

Giles groaned, "Please don't call me that."

"Indigo Club?" Doyle prompted, pulling himself to sluggishly to his feet.

Angel leveled a dark and warning glare at Cordelia. "Be careful. And don't do anything stupid. We'll meet back here later."

With an apologetic nod at Giles, he left the office with Doyle following on his heels. Cordelia and Gile's conversation followed him.

"You appear to work rather well with Angel."

"He needs me."

The door closed behind him.