Note:I do not own Angel or any of the other characters...except for Maljandra and other random idiots floating around.

Angel sat in front of the large window in his office. He liked how he could feel the bright sun upon his cool skin without bursting into flames. True, he wasn't actually feeling the true warmth of the gas star but it was better than nothing.

Even if his body remained still and unmoving, his mind wandered around constantly. Angel had seen Maljandra's body; she was dead, yet he saw her walking around. This was an obvious sign she had become a vampire, but she hadn't; she strolled out into the daylight without effects. Wesley nor Spike saw her, but Illyria had reported the girl watching her. It seemed only him and Illyria could see her.

Was she a spirit, like Spike was once? It didn't make any sense. It wasn't logical. Was it? He had to ask someone. Who? Whom would you ask if seeing dead girls was logical? Hmm, maybe some random lawyer could help him.

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Stuart walked quickly from his meeting. He hated always having to rush from one important meeting to another. Even though things had changed since that vampire with a soul came to be the head, things slowed down a bit. There were no more mind scans or as many kills for screwing up. And there were less stains on the carpet.

Suddenly as voice came from his side, "Uh, excuse me...?" Stuart turned around expecting someone, anyone but what he saw. It was Angel, his new boss. What did he want? Stuart hadn't done anything bad, or illegal or anything.

"Uh yes..." What to call him? What to call him? Angel? Boss? Vampire? "...boss? What is it?" He felt a fever coming on. The new head had never called upon him before. He just wanted to be left alone.

"I have a question..."

"I'm not evil!!" Stuart shouted in a whining voice. Then he immediately regretted it, then. Now it sounded like he was evil. Dammit!

Angel flicked his eyes from side to side. "Okay..." Obviously he wasn't talking about that. "Do you have a second?"

"Um, sure...boss...what do you need?" Stuart said, his eyes low. What if he needed to feed? No, he didn't drink human blood any longer. Stuart let off a sigh of relief.

"If you know something's not logical, but you see it and so does someone else, is it still unlogical?"

Huh? What was he implying?

Angel mouthed some words to himself, trying to think of a different way to phrase it. "Lets say, hypothetically, I killed someone." He saw the rat-like lawyer's eyes widen, obviously frightened, but he continued anyway. "Then I see the person walking around the next day."

"Then I'd say, why'd you turn them?"

"That's the point...I didn't change them, and they walk around in the daylight, so no one else did. And that person hasn't a scratch on them and only certain people see her."

"That's a dilemma," Stuart pointed out, lifting his glasses higher on his nose. "That would mean they're a figment of your imagination. Maybe you feel guilty for killing them, so your mind creates it. Or possibly it is their spirit."

"But then why would only certain other people see her?"

"Well, when you tell a lie a certain about of times, you actually start to believe that it's real. And maybe the other people had something to do with their death. Like they knew you were going to kill them, or that they helped with it. Something to that degree."

"Would it be logical though? To see a dead person walking?"

Here Stuart smirked, tilting his head. "There are mystical occurrences going on everyday beneath our noses." He slowly walked away, leaving Angel in the dark. "The best can't comprehend all of them...not even you."

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Wesley saw Illyria walking around the building. He saw her on every floor, her ice-cold eyes flickering around the sort of daemons and lawyers in the halls. Taking one guess, Wesley thought she was looking for that one girl. The one that only Angel and Illyria could see her. And Illyria was intrigued at how that worked.

But she was getting obsessive, it had to stop. The man caught her in the middle of traffic, saying her name. Illyria stopped and turned around to face him, "What do you want, Wesley?" She asked bluntly, before continuing on her search, strolling around the floors. "I want you to stop looking for someone that isn't there," he told her. In annoyance, he followed her along the way.

"She is there, Wesley. I saw her. She stared right into me." Illyria stopped and looked at him deeply. "She made me follow her, though my mind willed me not to." Then she froze and tilted her head. There she was.

Maljandra stood right behind the man. But, unlike before, her sinister smiled was not present. "There, Wesley. There she is. There's Maljandra," the Ancient spoke, fiercely twirling around Wes to face the girl. Though Wesley and the girl were mere inches apart, he still could not see her.

"Where?" He asked, searching the area. Why couldn't he see the woman Illyria and Angel could?

"Now she is leading me somewhere again," Illyria told him as her legs began to move forward. "Come with me," she told him, grasping his arm as she followed Maljandra through the crowd. She heard wails of protest coming from Wes, but she disregarded them. Following Maljandra was the only task she was focusing on.

The dead girl lead the blue daemon and her tag-along down several stairs. Wesley didn't know where they were going, he had never seen this place before. It was dark and the walls were gray and cement. Only few dim lights were scattered on the walls. Again, Illyria led them down another long set of stairs. At the end of the hallway, they turned into a room.

As soon as Illyria and Wesley entered the room, Maljandra disappeared right before her eyes. "Where has she gone?" She questioned her companion, releasing his arm.

"I don't know," he grunted in response, shaking the life back into his arm. Did he really care? No. Was she even there? No. All he cared about was returning from this dim and dusty corner of Wolfram and Hart. He reached for the doorknob, but it was stuck. He sucked in a large breath. This door was unlocked when they came into it, but now someone had locked them in. "Illyria, we're trapped!"

But the ancient daemon ignored him. She only stared in the opposite direction. "Did you hear me?" He cried again, We're locked in!"

But she only stoke in a dull voice to him, "Wesley?" He turned around to face her. She didn't sound her normal self. "Where are we?" The Englishman came up to her. They were in a room. A normal room under Wolfram and Hart's offices. Or so he thought. He glanced at the place where Illyria's eyes were fixed upon...and his mouth dropped wipe open.

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Stuart hadn't seemed to help Angel at all. But the last sentence he spoke sure grabbed his attention. The best can't comprehend all of them...not even you. What was he implying by that? Maybe he needed to ask a different lawyer, maybe that one was defective. He sullenly walked into his office, feeling fatigue roll over him. But instead of the plain blackness, he was greeted by someone else.

It was Maljandra. She stood in front of his window, gazing out at the setting sun. She had changed her black tee-shirt to a button-up white one that was unbuttoned low on her chest. She turned lazily when Angel came in, locking eyes with him. "Maljandra..." was all he could say.

Her face scrunched up in distaste. "Why does everyone keep calling me that?" Her voice had also changed. It was more of a sharp and echoing type. The tone had completely changed from the message he had received on the answering machine. She again made eye contact, "My name is Angelique."