It would be fair to say that Wesley was incandescent with rage. Spike had stayed with the Sunnydale crew for the past five nights. Angel's nightmares were back and something new was troubling him. He knew that Angel wasn't even sleeping anymore. He had picked his bloodied form off of his lounge floor three times and the other two mornings he had had to call Angel to come down to work. If Wes was telling the truth then he was scared for his friend. He was breaking under some invisible weight and he wasn't letting anyone in to relieve him of it. He imagined that there was only one individual that would be able to break Angel from this destruction. Thing was, he wasn't sure that that person would care anymore or that he trusted them to help. He hoped that Angel's meeting didn't end before they arrived as he (and the others) had a few things to say to the vampire. His cell gave a swift trill and he answered it rather more sharply than he had meant to.

"Woah! Chill English it's just me. They are here. We're in conference room two, when you're ready." With that brief message Gunn hung up.

Five minutes later, Wesley and all of his texts were in the conference room with the others. They appeared to be having no luck tracking the vampire and the LA crew had to say the same thing. He was a total mystery.

"So you've had no luck over the past five nights?" Wes couldn't keep the suspicious note out of his voice, no matter how hard he had tried. Demons weren't known for keeping secrets.

"Nope, nothing, nada, niente! It's as quiet as a ghost town out there my little amigos and these books are just as useful."

Xander slammed the book in question shut and pushed it to the centre of the table, glaring at it accusingly. Wes didn't know what they expected – maybe in Sunnydale the demons had announced their presence, but in LA? In LA, they were smart; sometimes they were too smart. Something was still troubling him though about the fact that this vampire was able to hide in such an organised city as LA. Unless…

"Have you checked everywhere?"

"Yup Percy. Went to every demon joint that I know of and then some. There is no trace of this bloody menace anywhere."

Wes looked towards Lorne and Gunn who both confirmed the same thing. His anger momentarily checked by his worry, he sank into his chair and began to really think this thing through. Seeing the impatient looks that he was getting he realised that he would have to think aloud.

"I don't really know what it has been like for you, but here there is a certain protocol that demons seem to follow. New demons to the city, especially ones that have power are immediately ferreted out by… snitches… so to speak. Umm, here there is a great underground information market – no one can hide in LA. If the demon is proficient and powerful then it has enemies. That means there is money to be made by knowing where it is staying."

"So you're saying that you don't think he's here? Wesley, I did a tracking spell myself and it showed that he came here. That he was here when we left Rome."

There was a spark in Willow's eyes that was just daring Wes to challenge her proficiency as a witch. He wasn't intending to.

"Maybe he moved on."

"Perhaps Dawn."

The Scoobies seemed momentarily disheartened by the idea that they had lost the vampire again. Wes didn't think that it was that simple.

"Actually, before everyone interrupted, the point that I was trying to make was that this vampire must be very powerful."

He was met by a host of blank faces. He was growing impatient at their inability to grasp what he was saying. He felt like getting a flip chart and spelling it out for them in really small words. They weren't even thinking about this vampire – just patrolling the city!

"I think that he's here. I also think that he has enough power to ensure that no one will 'rat him out'."

Buffy gave him a disbelieving look at that idea. Sure the vampire was strong but he wasn't powerful – no chance.

"If he's that powerful Wesley, then why haven't we been able to find him in any of the books? Also what proof do you have to suggest that he's still here?"

"Maybe we aren't searching for the right name. It would be like looking for the Master under Nest or Spike without looking up William the Bloody. Gabe may just be a moniker. And my proof comes from the fact that my locator spell failed to turn anything up."

"Maybe you aren't that good at magic."

"No, Buffy. I am good at magic – not as good as Willow but I am definitely proficient enough to cast a simple locator spell. Not only did my spell fail but it was returned."

Willow's head shot up.

"He can use magic."

"I think so."

A spell of silence settled over them all. If Wes assumptions were correct then Gabe was more of a threat than they had realised. He was potentially very dangerous indeed. Gunn leafed through the file in front of him. They needed a new avenue of investigation.

"Do you have any idea of what he looks like? Cos I'm thinking… the vamp's new to the city so, unless he is dossing down in some abandoned building – which is not a good way to stay off radar – he's probably checked into a hotel."

"Charlie Boy – vamps don't use hotels that much, tend to just kill and take over a house."

"Not if you're hiding you don't."

"Charles is right. It's not what he'd be expected to do. I'm sure that Angel could do a real good drawin' of the guy if we have an idea of what he looks like."

Giles and Willow began to flick through their files on this matter whilst Andrew made a large show of producing an A5 spiral notebook and turning every page with an audible snap of his wrist. He was driving the LA gang insane. He refused to acknowledge that they had their own expertise in these areas and in some cases actually knew more than Rupert Giles – for instance Quantum Physics, Demonic Law, Pylea to name but a few. Kennedy was the same, she was in love with the power of the Slayer; little realising power isn't useful if you don't know how to wield it. None of them had bothered to listen to Angel when he had suggested that they search the more uptown areas of LA, convinced that the vampire would be more comfortable in the warehouse and docks districts of LA. They didn't seem to understand that they weren't on their home turf anymore and there were other people with better experience.

"Speaking of, where is Deadboy?"

Fred and Lorne both narrowed their eyes as they noticed that Spike had no real reaction to that question. He hadn't noticed Angel's absence for the past few days so why should he now?

"Busy. He'll be here when he can."

Wes' response was short and clipped, his anger having re-manifested itself at the implication of Angel as an after thought.

"Wes? Was he… ok this mornin'?"

Fred was hesitant to let the others know that there was something really wrong with her friend but she hadn't had a chance to check on him before now and she wouldn't ever forgive herself if she didn't check on it. Wes caught her eye and the look in his deep blue eyes was one of fear. Other than that there was no other indication that what he said wasn't the absolute truth.

"Yes."

The LA gang shared deafening stares; all of them knew that Spike had hurt Angel very deeply, but only Wes was aware of the extent to which Angel had deteriorated. He wasn't sleeping, he wasn't feeding and his eyes… those deep brown eyes were more haunted than ever before. Wes had made it his practise to study Angel in so much detail that he would know if the slightest hair was out of place. Angel didn't have any hairs out of place at the moment; his whole state of mind was out of place. He was withdrawn, distracted, and distraught. He knew that the mornings he had found Angel on the floor of the penthouse he had been waiting for the sun – either to banish whatever was haunting him or to take him. He had been in more fights in the last few nights than he had in the last month. His ribs were broken and Wes had seen numerous bruises that were fortunately covered by clothes most of the time. If people had really been paying attention they would have noticed other small changes about Angel too. Gone were the suits and shirts, in their stead were either plain black pants or combats and loose fitting jumpers. The most variety in his clothing now was grey. Black or grey, that said everything about his mood. Not only that but there was no gel in his hair, it was in its natural state of disarray, he hadn't bothered to even try to tame it. Nor had he bothered to clean his boots of the gore of the previous night. These small, almost unnoticeable things spoke volumes to Wes.

Angel was imploding. Slowly and steadily spiralling towards the sun.

His fury firmly back in place he turned to face the comet that had caused the E.L.E in Angel's life. He wanted to rip strips off of the blonde vampire that was at present doodling on Buffy's 'research'. Whatever it was was obviously keeping them both amused. About to open his mouth he was distracted by a slight movement in the doorway.

Angel.

He hurt was clearly evident on his face and Wes thought that he could see the slight shimmer of unshed tears before Angel's body trembled and his attention turned in the direction of the elevators. Wes watched Angel as he watched the mail clerk collide with a research assistant and produce a cascade of tumbling papers. There was nothing particularly unusual in that type of occurrence but the expression on Angel's face caught his full attention. He wasn't shocked, surprised or even moved by it, despite the fact that the entire floor could hear the research assistant yelling at the mail clerk. The little scene even had the full attention of everyone in conference room two.

"Hey Sweet Cheeks how was the meeting?"

Angel sighed and moved into the room, refusing to look in the direction of Spike, but unable to stop himself.

"Can we get Eve back? Because even she would be preferable to what I sat through in there. Hamilton is really starting to piss me off! What did I miss?"

Angel flopped into the chair at the end of the table. He tried not to notice that Spike and Buffy were sat at the top of the table looking every inch the perfect couple. Blonde heads so close that they were almost touching as they read a text together. His body was screaming at him to move so that he was near his master. His claim needed to be recognised, his demonic side was demanding it with everything that it was but Angel didn't even have the energy to move, let alone demand Spike's attentions. Why would he want them anyway? Oh yeah… he was falling apart at the seams.

"Nothing much. We haven't been able to discover anything more than you it would appear. I thought that the taking over of a huge firm like this was to make it easy for you to get information like this. I guess you sold out for nothing."

Not even the energy to defend himself from such deadly attacks. Did she realise how hard they hit? How deep the cuts that they made were? How scarred he already was by her appearance?

"Now hang on a minute there Buffy. You have no idea why we took this place or what we do here. I would think that you would show a little respect seeing as though we have taken time out from our lives to help you with a vampire that is ripping your organisation apart. But then you never showed me any respect when I was your Watcher so why should you now."

"Buffy was just pointing out what we all feel." Giles wasn't about to let anyone attack his slayer but Angel didn't even have the energy to watch another argument on this issue again. His voice was thick and leaden with sheer exhaustion.

"Guys… Let's not do this ok? You are never going to understand why we have done this. The most we can hope for is that you can trust us. If that is impossible then can we please just part as old friends?"

"Angel you're sentiments are all well and good but some of us are not friends. There is too much bad blood between us to pretend otherwise."

Angel heard what wasn't said in that but decided not to retaliate.

"Fine. Then we should perhaps finish here and now. This meeting is over." He turned to his crew making sure that he didn't look at Spike. "Guys, I am going to go up, I had a bad night and my head is killing me. Call me if you need anything yeah?"

Angel left the room. As he began to wander up to his office he felt the heavy weight of fear settle in his chest. It was a good thing that he didn't need to breathe because the tightening and pressure would have made that impossible. He desperately wanted to sleep. 'To sleep, perchance to dream… For in that sleep of death what dreams may come…' If he never dreamed again he would be happy. If he never saw the cruel mocking bloodied smile of the Master. If he never felt the iron grip of fear and humiliation that settled like a collar around his neck; making him a slave to the rape of his dreams. If he never saw the entwining sunshine of two lovers so beyond him it was unfair to tease him with their Promethean heat. If he never saw those green eyes that watched him from the depths of shadows. If all of that came true, then he would have the redemption that he so desperately craved.

Eyes as green as Irish hills…

He staggered as the blow knocked all of the air out of his system. It was a thunderbolt of realisation that brought with it an enormous amount of nervous energy. How had he been so blind? It was all there laid out before him and he hadn't seen it… He knew what was so familiar about the killings. He knew where he had seen those eyes before… If he had been alive his heart would have been hammering its way out of his chest. Yet, he couldn't be sure he had to check… He ran, full throttle back to the meeting room, panting in anticipation.

Everyone glanced up in surprise at Angel's return, but only four of them realised that he was… afraid?

"Giles, the killings? What order were they in? Which was first?"

Giles looked at his notes and turned to the vampire "Do you need the dates?" A brief shake of the head indicated that Angel just wanted to know where. "The first was in Paris, the second Blois, then…"

Giles was a shopping list of death. The pattern though was obvious to him.

"Angel, I have marked the map in order but I do not understand what is happening. Do you see a pattern here?"

Angel didn't reply to Wesley. He just stared at the map. In the back of his mind he could feel everyone looking at him but he was more involved with the scene that was playing out in his head. He wasn't in LA anymore… he was 240 years in the past… he was home again…

Not bothering to say anything to anyone he flew out of the room and into the LA night, as if the very hounds of hell were at his heels once more.

"What was that about?" Xander looked around the group to see if anyone else understood what was happening. No one seemed to, so at least he didn't feel stupid.

"I believe that was Angel playing the drama queen." Giles was tired of the dark vampire's dramatics. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Andrew nodded at his mentor's assessment.

Wesley couldn't help the red haze that settled over his vision. He let it flow into every pore of him. His friend, his oldest, truest friend was afraid of something. He knew more about this vampire than he was going to admit. Wes had seen it grow as Angel had heard the order of the killings. This vampire had been a part of Angel's past. A significant part. He turned a furious gaze on the man that he had once admired.

"I think Giles, had you been paying attention you might have realised that Angel has just worked out something about your vampire." He turned to look at the door that was still closing from the impact of Angel bursting out of it. His voice became wistful. "Knowing Angel, he'll have either gone after the creature himself or he is out confirming his theory. Now I think that this meeting is over. Guys? Take the night off, Angel won't mind. See you tomorrow."

He turned and gave the Scoobies a withering look. He didn't bother to say goodbye, he just gathered his books and swept out of the room.