Chapter 2

Two hours later, Wesley, Fred, Cordelia and Gunn were sitting in the car, waiting for Angel to return. The asylum was situated in a walled parkland area, with the occasional tree in the grounds. The car was parked to one side of the tree-lined entrance road, just inside the gate. The Gothic architecture of the asylum made it look like an old nineteenth century English madhouse, with red brick walls, buttresses and lancet arches, turrets and tiny windows. There were only a few floodlights to light up the grubby-looking exterior, and they only helped to give it a very gloomy, depressing air rather than brighten the place up. Cordelia expected to hear piercing screams coming from the building at any moment. Perhaps even creepy organ music.

Angel had made his way to the asylum and stepped inside the small wooden front doors. The high ceiling of the lobby contained a pair of enormous chandeliers, casting soft light over the fairly sparse furniture of reception desk, a couple of small tables and hard wooden chairs in the waiting area. A small flower stall/gift shop had been built inside the lobby up against one wall. It was currently closed.

Angel walked up to the reception desk, which had a plump woman in her fifties slumped back in her chair, reading a magazine.

"I'm Doctor Edward Lynham, here to pick up your John Doe patient," he said in an easy but confident matter. He slid a folded sheet of paper over the counter towards her, including his ID card. She didn't take long to confirm the details, because it was all there on the computer. The fact that she knew nothing about it didn't faze her at all; she was rarely told about these things. They much preferred to tell her via the computer. Which suited her, because if she followed exactly what the computer said, and it turned out to be a mistake, then it wasn't her mistake, it was the mistake of whomever input the information into the system in the first place.

She gave him directions to the wing John Doe was currently in - west wing, ward B - and rang the nurse on duty there to notify them of his arrival and to get the patient ready. Angel watched all this very carefully, while simultaneously giving an air of disinterest. When the nurse hung up and smiled at him, he returned the smile, thanked her, and walked off in the direction of the elevators.

The elevator was the of old style; folding metal cage door with solid metal door behind it. He pressed the button, which immediately made a sorry sounding 'ping' noise, telling him the elevator was already there. He slid the outer cage door aside, which squealed in protest as he did so. Once the solid metal door was open, he stepped inside, closed them both and pressed the button for the third floor. The rickety and noisy elevator chugged into life and slowly dragged its way lazily upwards. The elevator eventually shuddered to a halt, with the doors rattling open. He hurriedly dragged open the doors and stepped out.

Angel turned left, per instructions, and started walking. The corridors were long and only sparsely lit, with occasional tiny windows set high in the walls showing glimpses of starry sky. Mostly quiet and emptiness greeted him, but sounds from some doors and corridors he passed reminded him that he really wasn't alone. A loud, drawn out scream from behind one door made him jump.

Finally, after passing through a number of large double doors, he arrived at large double metal doors with reinforced glass windows. A 'Ward B' sign hung above the doors. A button and speaker was set in the wall to one side of the doors. He pressed the button and heard a faint buzzing sound from behind the doors. He spoke into the speaker. "Doctor Edward Lyneham to collect patient John Doe."

The doors clicked unlocked after a few seconds, and Angel pushed them open and stepped in. A skinny man in his thirties, sitting behind a polished desk, looked at him disinterestedly. The large, bushy beard on the skinny man made his head look out of proportion to the rest of his body. Angel showed him his ID card, which he little more than glanced at. Bobby (as far as his name tag was concerned) fished in a draw and dragged out a form and a pen, which he slid across the desk towards Angel. He quickly filled it out, relieved there was nothing in the form that stumped him. The team had done well with their information.

Bobby didn't even look at the form, which he shoved in a pigeonhole in the wall behind him. Pushing reluctantly away from the newspaper spread out on the desk, he grabbed a key from a cabinet and shuffled his way towards the locked doors. Angel followed.

Glancing once through the slot in the door, he unlocked it and swung it open. Angel stepped inside and looked around. It was little more than a prison cell, with a simple bed, open toilet, desk and chair furnishing the room. A small, barred window sat high in one wall, which was currently letting in only small amounts of moonlight. A single dirty light bulb shone dully from the ceiling, casting 'John', who was lying on his back on the bed, in an almost eerie light.

"Come on, John, time for you to take a trip with Doctor Lynham," said Bobby.

"Where to?" he asked, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side.

"To another facility," he replied, not totally sure himself, nor really caring.

John, though, looked relieved to be leaving, and Angel couldn't say he blamed him. He was used to skulking around unpleasant places, but this place... it fairly reeked of madness, anger, frustration and depression. He had no idea how anyone could possibly get better being locked behind these awful walls.

Angel smiled at John and placed an arm gently under an elbow; John allowed himself to be lead from the room. Once Angel quickly pencilled in the time and fake signature on a form, then turned to leave.

"Hey, wait a minute," said Bobby from behind. Angel stopped dead in his tracks and held his breath, stealing himself for a fight and a hasty exit. He turned around to look at Bobby.

"Yes?"

"Do you need any help with the patient? An escort or restraints or something?" He'd made his way back around behind the desk and placed his hand on the phone, ready to call for help if the 'doctor' said the word.

"Er... no. No, thanks, I think we'll be fine, won't we John?" he said, smiling at John standing quietly beside him.

"Sure," he replied morosely. Angel doubted very much if he'd have any trouble from him.

"Alright, no problems then," said Bobby. "Good luck, doctor."

And with that, Angel turned again to leave, this time leaving the ward without any more interruptions. He walked John quickly through the corridors, wanting to be out of that place as soon as possible. John kept up the pace easily, probably equally eager to leave.

They soon made their way to the lobby, and Angel glanced to the receptionist, smiling when she looked up at him. If anything had gone wrong this soon, she would undoubtedly know by now. But she simply returned a weak smile and returned to her magazine. Angel walked to the door, opened it, and stepped out into the night air. He only then allowed himself to breath a sigh of relief. But he suspected it would be some hours before he could get the smell of that asylum out of his head.

During all that time, John hadn't said a word or struggled in any way, which relieved Angel. It was only when they finally reached the car that he began to pull at the light grip on his arm. "What's this?" he asked suspiciously, looking at the car full of people smiling at him.

"It's okay," spoke up Cordelia. "We're not going to hurt you. We're going to do our best to help you and we didn't think you'd be able to get much help in there," she said, waving a hand in the direction of the asylum.

"Are you really a doctor?" he asked, turning to Angel while reluctantly allowing himself to be escorted into the backseat of the car.

"Um... not exactly," he replied.

With Fred and Wesley on one side of him and Gunn on the other, he sat quietly during the drive back to the Hyperion hotel, asking no more questions. But the unsure, slightly nervous look never left his face.

*****

They drove straight to Caritas, the karaoke bar with a difference. Lorne, the green-skinned proprietor of said bar, was standing at the back of the bar, listening to some hideous looking demon singing on stage. But despite the grotesque appearance of the demon, he - or possibly she, or maybe even it - had a truly beautiful, almost enchanting voice. The song was unknown to Angel or any of the gang, and neither was the language 'it' was singing in. But it mattered not at all, as even Angel became mesmerised by the voice.

After several more minutes, the song ended and the demon bowed. There was silence at first, until Lorne started clapping loudly. Then everyone else joined in enthusiastically. After the demon had left the stage and the hubbub had died down, Lorne turned to Angel and his gang. He immediately noticed their new companion.

"Got a new friend, I see," said Lorne. "Are you going to introduce me?"

Angel opened his mouth to do just that, before he realised that he didn't actually know his name.

"Well, actually..." he began.

"Jude," replied their new friend in a quiet voice.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad!" sang Gunn, smiling at his own witty reference to the Beatles song.

Jude turned to look at Gunn. "Don't make what bad?" he said, looking puzzled.

"Not much of a Beatles fan, I guess," Gunn whispered, feeling a little silly.

"Er... yes... welcome, Jude," said Lorne, shaking his hand. "I hope you enjoy it here. Any friend of Angel's is a friend of mine. Except for the ones I don't like, obviously. But I can tell I'm going to like you."

Angel soon pulled Lorne aside, away from Jude and anyone else in the bar.

"Lorne, I need you to do your stuff with Jude. He claims to be a vampire with a soul and I need to find out whether he belongs back in the insane asylum, or..." He didn't know how to finish it, because he didn't know what to do with him if he really did turn out to be a vampire with a soul.

"Surely you can tell if he's a vampire, at least," said Lorne, looking a little surprised.

"That's the thing, I'm not sure. If he was a normal vampire then absolutely. But... I can't quite tell with him. I feel something, but I can't be sure exactly what it is."

"Well then, I'll see what I can do," said Lorne, looking over Angel's shoulder to see Jude just standing there, seemingly a bit dazed. He approached him and gave him the big, friendly smile he gives to all of his patrons.

"Why don't you get up there and show us what your tonsils are made of?" he said, slapping him on the back in a friendly fashion.

"Me? Oh, I... I don't know if I can sing very well. I mean..."

"Oh come on, Jude," said Cordelia, sidling up beside him and putting an arm around his shoulder. She felt she could talk most men into just about anything, if she tried hard enough. And she was probably right. "I'm sure you've got a great voice. And we'd all love to hear it, wouldn't we?" she said, throwing a glance at the others while pressing the length of her body gently up against him.

"Oh yeah, absolutely," said Gunn.

"Definitely," agreed Wesley.

"Sure thing," said Angel, smiling. He hated smiling, because it always felt so artificial, and he suspected it just made him look creepy rather than happy.

"Well... okay, then," said Jude somewhat reluctantly as he made his way gingerly to the stage. The song he chose was "Stuck in the middle with you" by Steelers Wheels.

'He knows Steelers Wheels but he doesn't know The Beatles? What a strange person,' thought Gunn.

His voice was a bit rusty to start with, but actually wasn't half bad by the end of the song. God knows, he'd heard a hell of a lot worse! When he'd finished, Lorne clapped encouragingly, like he did with all the patrons brave enough to sing.

"That was very good, Jude," said Lorne as Jude returned to the group. "You should work on that, you'd be great." He usually told most of them that they were good, even the ones that literally made the patrons' ears bleed or even drop dead on the floor. But with Jude, he meant it. He was pretty good, considering the usually quality he gets.

Jude conveniently chose that moment to go to the bathroom, so Lorne turned to Angel and the gang, pulling them to the back of the bar.

"He's a puzzling one, is Jude," said Lorne. "I'm not surprised your sensors were a bit confused, Angel."

"Yeah, and?" said Angel impatiently.

"Well... from what I can tell," continued Lorne, "he is a vampire. And I think he might indeed have a soul."

"Impossible," said Wesley. "Are you 100% sure?"

"No, I'm not 100% sure. But it's the best I can do," said Lorne defensively. "If you want my opinion, I think he is indeed a vampire with a soul, but he's also had a very hard time dealing with things... reality, for example. If you get my drift."

"So, would a vampire with a soul," mused Wesley, "combined with a bit of insanity, explain why it's so difficult to... get an accurate reading?"

"Sure. I read people's aura, not their mind, and if their grip on reality is a bit tenuous, then that affects their aura. Anyway, even if I could read his mind, I doubt it would be much clearer."

Just then, Jude came back from the bathroom. He saw them all huddled together, obviously deep in conversation, and paused. But Cordelia saw him and gave him her big, warm smile and waved him over. He hesitated a moment longer before joining them.

Jude walked straight up to Angel and pulled him aside.

"I need blood. Badly. It's been too long since my last feed. I know you're just like me so I know you understand that if I can't get access to blood soon, I'll need to find my own. And I don't really want to do that."

Angel did indeed understand. He knew what it was like to be so desperate for a feed that you began to watch innocent people hungrily and trying to resist the enormous temptation the walking blood banks provided.

"Okay, we need to get you back to the hotel." With that, Angel got the attention of the others and notified them that they needed to get back home, quickly. They followed them out the door, tight on their heels.