Demon Hunter's Journal Entry,
Warily do I wander the halls of Wolfram and Hart, these days.
Fred is getting along well with her department. Especially with a youg chap named Knox. Confident know-it-all, is the young Mr. Knox. Always has the right answers. Fred should be smitten with him in about, oh say, a week. And during that interim I shall avoid both of them to the best of my abilities.
Gunn has taken well to his…transformation is the only word that should suffice. I can't say he's Charles Gunn any longer. Not the Gunn I know, at any rate. But he's made himself a damn fine lawyer. He fits the mold well.
Lorne seems preoccupied with everything Wolfram and Hart has to offer in entertainment. I don't think I'll ever look at William Hung the same way ever again. But if the audience knew what I knew, they'd kill him immediately. No excuse for it really. Simon Cowell should have had it aborted before it reached term. Has no one to blame but himself.
Harmony has finally learned how to use the rolodex and the hold button and which end of the receiver to talk into. And she is totally incapable of carrying a mug without spilling it. But Angel hasn't killed her yet so…
Angel.
Eve…is no Lilah.
I believe I've put it off long enough. Angel has acquitted himself very well as CEO of Wolfram and Hart. Very well, indeed. We always knew we would have to pick our battles here. Unwritten rule of heroism: Can't save everyone so save who you can. Angel, apparently, is still trying to decide whom to save. He has already let four demon tribes who have committed human sacrificial orgies get off on a technicality, a demon-spawn Mormon Elder who has spread his demon seed to at last count a hundred "wives" to form his own church of offspring to worship Cthulhu so he can return and enslave the Earth. If that weren't bad enough, the church was funded by the ne'er do well great-grand nephew thrice removed of Lovecraft himself. At the time of this writing, the wives have all been incinerated by W&H agents, the potent demon sperm resides in the vaults at Wolfram and Hart, The Elder has been banished from the Mormon faith and is currently being held in a trans-dimensional limbo that is unfortunately in ideological gridlock for a millennia (his parole board meeting is tomorrow because he spent a day and a half of a googolplex sentence serving time with "good behavior") and the great-grand nephew is picking up trash along the I-5 wearing a very stylish orange jumpsuit.
Angel's reponse to all this? "It's only murder."
I've never doubted him before, and I'd follow him to hell if he asked me, but either he's come up with a brilliantly understated plan or he's lost something. Something valuable.
I trust my instincts, though. Under Angel I've honed them to a sharp awareness. I trust that Angel is biding his time to strike. As a soldier I will await my commander's orders.
And follow him.