"A Slayer," Wesley repeats. "Are you sure?"
"Unless you know of another way a human teenage girl can acquire super human abilities," Angel responds.
It's the following morning. Fred, Gunn and Wes sit on one side of the conference table. Angel sits on the other. Spike slouches against the window in the back of the room, his arms folded in front of him.
"Are they like weeds?," Fred asks. "Remove one, another sprouts up in her place?"
"The location of new Slayers is entirely random," Wesley explains. "And, from what I understand, a new one appears somewhere on the globe at least once every week."
"She wasn't new," Angel tells them. "She's experienced. She's entirely comfortable with her powers. From the way she behaved, I'm guessing she's had months to get used to them."
"If she knows what's up, if she knows demons are evil killers, why does she protect this one vampire?," Gunn asks.
"He's a very charming lad," Spike explains. This makes the humans uncomfortable.
"I forgot. He's your kid," Gunn quips.
"That's not wut I meant."
"Forget about the vampire," Angel suggests, "and focus on the girl. How tough has her life been? Does she go to school?Are her parents around? I'm guessing they're not. Find out everything you can about this girl and her friends. Her human friends."
"Sob story aside, what could cause a Slayer to take up with a soulless vampire?," Wesley asks, to Spike's consternation.
"She could be evil," Fred suggests.
"That's the simplest explanation," Gunn concurs. "The vampire doesn't want to die fighting her. An amoral Slayer wants to maximize her power. They become natural allies."
"She is not evil," Angel insists. "Just lonely. And naive."
"Lonely? I thought you said she had friends?," Fred asks.
"They can't help her fight."
"Like hell they can't," Gunn dissents. "Two of them nearly dusted you guys with an efficiency that would make my old crew proud."
"Just find out what you can about her," a frustrated Angel commands. "Police records. School records. Talk to her teachers, acquaintances. I want a complete profile by the end of the day."
"What about the Senior Partners?," Gunn asks. "Do we know where they stand on this matter?"
"Why should we care?," Angel responds.
"She's a very powerful weapon. If they know about her, and if they know that she's willing to collaborate with evil, chances are they'll want to add her to their arsenal. Ya gotta watch your back."
"Is that a warning, or a threat?," Angel suspiciously asks, given how Charles is the closest one to the Senior Partners. Gunn is wounded by the accusation.
"When have I not been on your side?," Gunn responds. "Tell me when." Angel drops it.
"Gunn makes a good point," Wesley concedes. Angel finds this ironic, considering how Wes did betray him, though of course Wesley can't remember. "There are other forces at play. The Council, for instance."
"She made it pretty bloody clear where she stood on them," Spike reports.
"That's why I believe she'll work with us," Angel argues. "More than anything, Debbie wants to stay home. We can help her with that."
Wes grins slyly. "Are you suggesting we ally with this Slayer against the Rump Council?"
"I'm not suggesting we become Buffy's and Rupert's enemies."
"Why not?," Wes responds. "They've made it clear that they consider us to be their enemies."
"Only because they're misinformed."
"Willfully misinformed. Or, more accurately, willfully uninformed." Wesley doesn't care what Rupert thinks of him. But he is insulted by how easily Giles could assume Angel was no longer one of the good guys.
"Why didn't they pick her up last month?," Fred inquires.
"They probably didn't know about her," Wes surmises. "If they're finding these Slayers one-by-one, they could find Debbie next week, or six months from now. To say nothing about how soon after that they'd attempt to make contact with her."
"Which is why she's scared," Angel concludes. "All those uncertainties. We can provide her with a little insurance. Provided she trusts us. But that won't happen unless I get a chance to talk to her. And before I even try that, I need to know more about her." Angel leaves the room. The other three linger and look at Spike, who's lighting up a cigarette.
"What the bloody hell is it?," he asks them, slightly annoyed by the gawking.
"No smoking," Fred informs him.
"Says who?"
"The firm. State law," Gunn explains.
"Oh, cum on! My second-hand smoke is the last thing people have to worry about around here." They still stand there looking at him. Wes walks over to Spike.
"I recall hearing about this Devlin vampire back at the academy. He was seen as a real up-and-comer. Someone to watch out for. I didn't know he was yours. He sounded so meticulous and cerebral."
"If you want to call me stupid, be a man and say it to my face."
"Relax, Spike," Wes says calmy and with a note condescension. "All I meant was that your approaches differed. He's supposed to be very dispassionate."
"A real joyless killer. Never smiled when he was massacring. He's cool as a cucumber when it comes to his work. He saves his passion for other pursuits."
The alarm starts beeping at seven o'clock. Deb slaps the snooze bar and climbs out of bed. Dev reaches out, grabs her arm and gently pulls her back onto the mattress. He opens his eyes. "Morning, love," he says with a smile.
"Morning," she responds, gives him a little kiss and tries to get off the bed. But Dev holds onto her legs at looks up at Debbie.
"Leaving so soon? We still got some time, right?" He pulls her down on top of him, she laughs, and playfully wrestles to break free.
"You know I got school in, like, half an hour."
"It's a five minute drive to the parking lot. A five minute walk from there to your homeroom. That leaves us what, twenty minutes?" He puts his arms around her and they wrestle some more, both of them laughing. Before long, she pins his arms and shoulders down. "I like where this is heading," he tells her as she kneels over top of him, straddling his midsection.
"You forgot the part about showering and getting dressed and drying my hair, so I don't look like crap."
"You look great from here." He frees his right arm and runs his hand through her hair.
"Of course you say that," Deb replies as she takes a pencil off the desk with her right hand and brings it down towards Dev's heart. He laughs and grabs her right wrist with his left hand. "I'd kill you if you didn't."
"Also, because I love you. To me, you could never not be beautiful." Their fingers interlock, and she drops the pencil. Deb puts her left hand to his face.
"Were you ever this sweet?"
"Never. Because I was never in love."
"You know I have to go."
"And you know I can't leave the house."
"A man who knows his place," Debbie jokes. She leans down and kisses Devlin. Once she leaves the room, he rolls over and goes back to sleep. After she showers, and gets dressed, Deb gazes down at her man. He looks so peaceful. She strokes his hair. He smiles.
"He's as patient as he is vicious," Spike tells Wes, Gunn and Fred. "The boy loves to do his homework. He may already know where each of you live. And I bet he's already been in this building a few times. He gets a kick out of sneaking behind enemy lines.
"Then why didn't he nail us before we saw him coming?," Gunn asks.
"Because Angel is not his enemy," Spike replies. "Not yet. He doesn't want to make more enemies than he has to."
"Mutually assured destruction," Wesley concludes. "He knows that he cannot defeat Angel. So he wants Angel to believe that a victory would come at a catastrophic cost."
"We've taken down plenty of vamps in our time," Gunn points out. "Why should we worry so much about this one? He attacks, we defend ourselves, Angel dusts him, end of story."
"Because he won't attack," Spike explains.
"Are you certain he's yours?," Wesley asks. Spike glares at him. "On a serious note, I dimly recall something about Devlin taking out an entire Council cell in Budapest about a decade ago."
"The Budapest job. He was very proud of that one. Told me all about it."
"What did he tell you?," Wesley asks. "The Council never found out what happened, on account of their being no survivors."
"Here's his side, for what it's worth: The lad wanted to make a name for himself. So he started biting the locals by the coach-load. Soon enough, the London boys sent three commandos after him."
"That much I already knew," Wesley reports. "Tell me what I couldn't know."
"I was getting there. They raided his lair in the daytime, and he escaped underground. When they came back at night, he ducked into the alley, a whisker ahead of their crossbows. Dev told me he tripped and fell on his face as he stepped through the door. That way they'd think he was a coward AND a klutz. So they rush out back to finish him off. He's hiding. Watching them. The moment they let their guard down, he comes out of nowhere, knocks two of them to the ground and kills the third. Then he goes out front and slashes all their tires so they can't get away. When the two guys come out, he knocks one down, takes his phone and disappears. A little while later, he does the same to his partner. They try to head home for backup. But when they hail a cab, he leaps out and kills the cabby. After doing that twice, they give up on cabs, and don't even think of trying to step on a bus. They have to walk. Dev keeps at them for a couple hours, dragging them into deserted alleys, attacking and disappearing. Never giving them a chance to get help. Drives them half-mad. They know he's always watching them, that he can kill them at any moment. When they finally can't go on, he carries them inside before the sun comes up and tortures them until they tell him where their local safe house is."
"Those men are trained to withstand torture," Wesley points out. "They would die before telling a vampire anything that could betray their colleagues."
"If I were torturing them, or if Angelus was, you'd probably be right. But Devlin things a little different. He tied the two of them up. Then he told one bloke that he didn't tell him what he wanted to know, he'd sire his partner. There are things people fear more than pain or death. They squealed. He let them off easy with stab wounds through the heart. Next night he staked out the safe house the Council's local operatives worked out of. When the owner and his wife stepped out, he nabbed them and pulled the same stunt. Told the bloke to give him an invite or he'd vamp his beloved and let her eat him. Bloke wouldn't betray his men. So Dev bites his wive, drains her most of the way, gives him another chance. No dice. Dev cuts his arm and lets her start drinking. Seeing his wife doing that was enough to make him crack for a split-second. Dev keeps his word, stabs them both in the spine. Around noon he walks up to the house, an umbrella over his head to block the sun. They never expected a vampire to waltz into that place. Certainly not in middle of the day."
"You seem to remember that story all too well," Wesley notes.
"Kid was proud. Talked my ear off. Same tale, over-and-over. What he did to them is his standard procedure. Lure the enemy in, cut them off from their base, wear them down, never let them get a clean shot at you."
"Except for that Slayer," Wesley adds. "Provided he's telling the truth about killing. I should check into that." He leaves the room.
"I have a few sources in the Orange County P.D.," Gunn mentions before leaving. Fred and Spike stand there, nervously alone, for a few seconds.
"You need someone to talk to?," she asks.
"No. Why?"
"I dunno. I kinda figured you'd be feelin' a little guilty."
"For what?"
"For Devlin. You are sorta responsible for everyone he's ever killed."
"Same with Angel for every vampire he ever sired. You ever tried to have this talk with him?"
"Okay. I get it. It's an alone thing. Probably with lots of silent brooding. But the offer still stands."
"Sorry if I don't take it up. But thanks for caring." Fred smiles slightly, then leaves. Spike, now alone in the room, continues to smoke and starts pacing back and forth.
At lunch, the gang's back in the conference room, including Harmony and Lorne. Angel's glad that something's brought them all together. This case, with its simple, human scope, reminds him of the old days. "Spike, I just occurred to me that I've never heard you sing," Lorne announces.
"No bloody way. I'm not into giving other people an all-access pass to my sub-conscious."
"I understand. Not everyone is a good singer."
"I'm a very good singer. It's the bloody mind-reading I object to."
"As good as Angel?" Angel's surprised and gratified with the apparent compliment. Spike laughs.
"Angel? He couldn't carry a tune if it was strapped to his back."
"Sure, he's no," Lorne pauses, "Barry Manilow." Lorne chuckles. "But he was good enough – or brave enough – to get on stage and show off his pipes in front of a hundred strangers."
"I'd be glad to sing in front of a thousand strangers. So long as none of them can tap into my thoughts."
"I checked into Deborah Owen's background," Gunn announces, shifting the conversation back to business. "She's never been arrested. But the cops have been watching her. Along with five human friends of hers. The six of them have gotten into confrontations with other youth gangs. Pseudo, wannabe-gangs, actually. Bloods and Crips they definitely ain't. In fact, they're not even the Jets and the Sharks. But it's the suburbs. Police out there have time to focus on nuisance crimes. I have her address, as well as the addresses of those friends."
"What about her family?," Angel asks.
"You were right about there being problems. Mom died in a car accident when Deb was eleven. Dad got sent to prison for cooking crystal meth when she was thirteen."
"Her dad was a drug dealer?," Angel wonders.
"No. Small-timer trying to make a few bucks while he was out of work. Didn't know enough big-time players to be worth a plea bargain. So he got ten years. The girl's aunt and uncle have been her legal guardians since then. But I'm not sure if they actually live with her."
"How long have the cops been watching her?"
"Three, four months at most."
"Only since she became a Slayer," Wesley surmises.
"Is there like a Slayer-loving gene that gets passed from vampire to vampire?," Harmony asks about Spike's spawn. "Or should we blame the Slayers? Are they just naturally attracted to vampires because they have the super-power thing in common?"
"I do think we do need to find an adequate answer as to why they didn't try to kill one another," Wesley haltingly responds, trying to segue from Harmony's non-sequitor. He places a manilla folder on the table and opens it. "I contacted our office in Capetown. They were able to obtain the Johannesburg medical examiner's report on the Slayer Devlin murdered. Hilda Grubers Botha. Aged sixteen years, seven months. Bitten twice. Once on each side of the neck. And she was forcibly raped. While still alive." A silence caused by revulsion falls over the group. Spike looks very nervous.
"Something you'd like to tell us?," Angel asks.
"It's a trick I taught him," Spike confesses, his held drooped low in shame. "You drain enough blood to weaken them. They're not strong enough to resist, but they are strong enough to cry in pain and beg you to stop. When you've had your, fun, you finish draining them. But trying it on a Slayer – that was too reckless even for me to consider."
"So we know his sadism can get the better of his good judgement," Angel concludes, trying to draw a constructive lesson from the disturbing information. Vampires dream of turning a fearsome Slayer into a helpless victim. But neither Spike nor Angel knew of anyone who tried to take it to this level. "Everyone killer has a fetish. I guess his is control."
"I haven't gotten to the worst part," Wesley warns. "There were nine other homicides that night in the neighborhood where Hilda's body was found. Eight of them died in a coffee shop. All of internal injuries. No bites. He just beat them to death in public. The ninth body was missing its head. From the contents of his wallet, the body was identified as one Nigel Henry Barrington. He went by Hal. At least he did when I knew him at the Council. The head was not found. Apparently our vampire took it as a trophy."
"Not exactly," Spike announces. "If I know Devlin, that head found its way to Rome. He called it pulling a Hasdrubal'."
Wesley goes pale. "Poor Rupert."
"Wait," a confused Harmony interrupts. "What's a Hasbro Ball?"
Wesley explains. "Hasdrubal was Hannibal's brother. After the Romans defeated and killed Hasdrubal at the Battle of the Metaurus, they cut off his head, carried it three hundred miles south and tossed it into Hannibal's camp."
"Does that mean he dropped the head of at Buffy's?," Harmony asks.
"Hal was a Watcher. Giles would have been the one who sent him to South Africa."
"Poor Giles," Angel adds. He knew a thing or two about taunting Rupert with dead bodies. Devlin's act struck him as crass and artless – a reminder that he is sire was Spike. Still, he imagined it must have been devastating. Then he realized there was some art to it. "He said he met Rupert. That they hit it off at a museum. Unbelievable. He kills a Slayer. Mutilates a Watcher. Rubs Rupert's nose in it. Then he befriends Buffy's sister and makes nice with the guy he traumatized."
"Sounds to me it's Buffy he's after, and we're just caught in the crossfire," Gunn comments.
"But so is Debbie," Angel reminds them. "She's our concern."
"Got a plan regarding her, chief?," Lorne asks.
"It's a Friday night. The kids will be out. We scout the scene."
"Not all Slayers like a man who lurks," Spike tells Angel with a smirk. "And what you call scouting, she might call stalking."
"Not me, you idiot. They know me. They know you. We'd set off alarm bells." Angel thinks for a second. Then it occurs to him. "We send Harmony."
"What?," Wes exclaims.
"My thoughts exactly. I'm a vampire. She's a Slayer. I know I've made a few mistakes as your secretary. But sending me to my death – isn't that a little extreme?"
"She hasn't seen you. Her boyfriend probably hasn't seen you. And, out of all of us, you'd be the best at blending into the high school social scene."
"Well, I suppose that is one of the benefits of eternal youth. And having been really popular in high school. Which could create a problem. You said you wanted me to blend. What if I can't help shining and become the center of attention?"
"I guess that's a risk we'll have to take," Angel deadpans.
"Oh goodie. Oh goodie! I finally have a mission," she gleefully exclaims before regaining her composure. "I promise that I won't let you down, boss."
"I'm sure you won't. Now could you go type up the minutes from yesterday's board meeting?" The lunch ends and the group breaks up, heading back to their respective posts. Wesley and Gunn flank Angel as he walks out.
"Are you sure this is wise?," Wesley asks.
"I also have reservations," Gunn admits. "A vampire? What's the Slayer going to think?"
"We need to learn more about her. All of you are too old to be hanging around with high-schoolers. We know that Devlin's seen Fred. He might have also seen you two. Which makes it all the more likely you'd blow your cover. So what's left? Sending a few of our commandos? We know how bad they are at blending into the background. Harmony's perfect. They'll never see her coming."