[Devlin makes a foray into Wolfram & Hart to meet Harmony, talk with Angel and battle the building's crack security force. Debbie agrees to spend an evening with Angel, while Fred gets a chance to pick Devlin's brain.]

Angel begins his Monday afternoon with employee evaluations. "Now, Griffin - "

"Please, Griff. Mister Angel."

"Griff. It's clear that your management of our firm's assets has been exemplary ever since you succeeded to that position five quarters ago. You've had us outperforming most investment banks, and at a fraction of the commissions they'd charge."

"I hope you noticed that since you took the helm I have refrained from all illegal and quasi-illegal uses of insider information and/or offshore tax shelters."

"I appreciate that. It's good to know you're smart enough to make a buck without cheating."

"It has lowered our returns by five percent, which I've termed the Virtue Premium.' There are plenty of men and women who would be willing to toss aside virtue and bring in higher profits for a lower salary than I command. I appreciate your support in resisting such usurpations."

"Is that your fancy way of trying to ask me for a raise? Sounds like you want your own Virtue Premium'." Griff laughs nervously.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Because you're SO ethical."

"No. Because the head of my department is in charge of my remuneration. You may be able to fire me, but it's outside of your power to give me a raise." Angel feels chagrined, then wonders if Griff's making this up to cover his tracks. He decides to drop the matter entirely and looks once again at the man's evaluation.

"Wesley attached a note about a theory of yours he thought I'd be interested in hearing."

"Not mine. Robert Lucas's. Rational Expectations. It won him the Nobel Prize for Economics."

"Now why would Wesley think I would be interested in something like that? Come to think of it, why would Wesley be interested in it?"

Devlin steps out of the elevator. He wears a navy blue pinstripe suit, a blue shirt, a yellow tie and a black bowler hat. He carries an umbrella in his right hand. As he walks over to Harmony, he takes off his hat. His hair is parted down the center, making him look more like a fresh-faced schoolboy than a vicious killer. She looks up at him. "Can I help you?"

"I have an appointment with Angel."

"You do. When?," she asks dismissively before checking Angel's schedule.

"Whenever he's finished with his current appointment."

"I'm sorry. Angel is a very busy man. He can't fit you in today. But if you want to leave me your name and number - "

"That won't be necessary, Harmony." He smiles at her and sits on the far edge of her desk. "I bet guys like me waiting to see the boss must hit on you all time. How many guys ask for your phone number each day? Five? Six?" Harmony smiles bashfully. She's not used to such overt flattery.

"Most of Angel's meetings are with demons. Ugly, slimy, tentacled demons. It's very rare that a halfway-attractive guy like yourself stops by."

"You mean they don't make up lame excuses to come up here and pay you a visit?"

"You mean stalkers," she jokes. They both laugh. "I guess I've had a few of those in my time."

"I get it, now. They're afraid of a certain ex-boyfriend of yours who happens to roam the halls. He may play it cool, but I have no doubt Spike would be consumed with jealousy if he say you with another man."

Harmony pauses for a few seconds, then smiles. "Very smooth, Devlin," she calmly announces. "Changed the hair. Put on a suit. Is this your idea of dressing for success?"

"It's clearly not my idea of blending," he responds, flipping his hat up onto his head and grabbing his umbrella. "You look much too stunning to blend. I like to think I do as well."

"Spike said you'd try to be charming."

"You find me charming?"

"I said TRY." Dev chuckles.

"Come on, Harm. If anyone else was my sire - "

"You'd probably be even more of a loser."

"That's cute," Dev responds with a smile. "Playing hard to get because you know I'm being facetious."

"Yeah. Among other things. By the way, I should warn you, by being here you're risking instant death."

"I like the danger. And I love catching people by surprise." He backs away, looks around and spins his umbrella in his right hand. "When do you expect Angel to be done in there?"

"The essence of Rational Expectations Theory isn't economic. It's psychological. People can't be fooled the same way twice. You keep using the same trick, and they'll be prepared for you. I think this applies as much to mystical curses as it does to inflationary monetary policy." Angel looks up at the ceiling and groans.

"I don't believe this."

"Hear me out, Mister Angel. You lost your soul when you were unaware of the Curse. That can never be the case ever again. You engage in the same behavior, the Curse will constantly be on the back of your mind. This persistent worry, this everpresent dread, will prevent you from ever achieving perfect happiness. The Curse cannot be broken if you know of its existence."

"You're trying to apply economics to the metaphysics of my soul?"

"Not economics. Psychology. I understand if you'd be unwilling to put my hypothesis to the test, but I felt it was my duty, as a loyal employee, to inform you of it. And Mister Wyndham-Price agreed with me."

"He has his own views on the subject."

"Which, by the way, I happen to disagree with. In my opinion, his ideas are based on dangerously subjective semantics."

"He talked about this with you? This is a private matter!"

"In practice, yes. In theory, no. And I'm only talking theory."

"You and I, we have a lot in common," Devlin says to Harmony.

"You mean Spikey."

"No," he responds with a laugh. "Cute nickname, though. I meant our embrace of abstinence." Harmony looks a tad insulted. "From human blood." Now she understands. "What induced you to give up the hunt?"

"Well, ughh, there's the money, of course. And the stability and the friends and all the other things that come with a steady job."

"A place in the world."

"Yeah. Plus, I don't have to worry about getting staked."

"Good point. These days, you never know when a Slayer's about to pounce on you."

"Isn't that why you gave up killing?" It takes Dev a second to get it, but then he smiles.

"Good one. So how come a gorgeous, witty woman like yourself is still single?"

"You're not looking to set up another one of her friends?"

"Someone's done her homework. And no. I'm not. Even if I were, I doubt you'd like the relocation to exurbia. You strike me as the type who's more at home in the excitement of the big city."

"What gave you that idea, Einstein? The fact that I'm living in one?," she tartly responds.

"Love the attitude, Harm. Tell me, are you always this much fun, or do I just bring out the best in you?" Griffin walks out of the office. Harmony gets on the speaker phone.

"Angel, there's someone here to see you. A vampire." Angel, already disturbed by Griff's suggestions, pops his head out of the office. Perfect. More aggravation.

"What do you want?," he asks Devlin.

"What do you want?"

"Not to have my time wasted." Angel slams the door. Devlin enters the office, placing his umbrella and cap on top of a filing cabinet to his left. Angel ignores him.

"What? No attempt to kill me?"

"You're hardly worth the effort."

"Not right now. But one day you may regret letting me walk out of here alive." Angel shoves Dev into the door.

"You have five seconds to give me a reason not to throw you out the window behind me."

"You'd have to find a new office until the glass was replaced." Angel slugs the smartass in the stomach, grabs a pencil and goes for the heart. Dev grabs Angel's right hand with both of his hands, keeping the point three inches from his chest. "I see you've found a cheaper method of doing away with me," Devlin comments before head-butting Angel in the nose and pushing him back. Angel lands a right hook to Dev's face, blocks Devlin's right hook with his left arm and nails Dev's nose with a right jab. Devlin backs away, straightens his tie and unruffles his suit. "And to think, I came here in peace." He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small olive branch. "Debbie would like to meet with you. Tonight, at eight. Her house. I'm sure you've figured out where that is. She's willing to give you three hours of her time. And do bring Winifred Burkle. Just in case you get the urge to kidnap and save' the poor, wayward girl."

"And you came all this way to tell this because you wanted to impress me by breaking into my offices in broad daylight?"

"Not impress. Merely surprise."

"You did neither."

"Saving money by cutting back on security? Or is it just you way of showing everyone how tough and fearless you are?"

"Eight O'Clock. And if you try anything with Fred - "

"I know. You'll kill me."

"No. She will." Devlin grins.

"I really like that in a woman. Something the two of us have in common, eh Angel?" He takes his hat and umbrella and leaves. Once in the lobby, he runs his left hand along Harmony's right cheek, startling her. He lifts up her chin so she's looking him in the eyes. "I hope the pleasure wasn't all mine," he says with a smirk before walking towards the elevator. Harmony knows it's probably an act, but she relishes the attention nonetheless.

Down in the parking garage, Dev senses company. He smiles. "I've been waiting for you," he announces, his voice echoing through the cavernous concrete space. He runs to his right and hides in the eighteen inch space between the back of an Escalade and the wall. He listens for his pursuers. They have him surrounded on three sides and are slowly tightening the noose, carefully keeping out of sight. If they were pros, by the time he saw one of them, the rest would be on top of him. Six cars over, fifty feet to his right, Dev catches sight of a black-clad commando's tranq gun. He points his umbrella at the chap and lets off a .22 caliber round. The man grunts in pain as the bullet enters his chest through his right armpit. Another fighter thirty feet to Dev's left fires a dart. Dev spins to his right so he ends up on the passenger's side of the vehicle. The dart sails behind him. As he spins, Dev pushes another button that shoots a six inch-long knife out the end of his umbrella like a little bayonet. He shoves it through the mouth of the man who was coming right for him, a stake in his right hand and a taser in his left. The commando on the driver's side of the vehicle realizes where Dev is, and waits for the vampire to make his next move.

He does so almost immediately, grabbing his bowler hat in his left hand. To his right, a man in the traffic lanes between the rows of cars fires. Dev leaps forward, does a somersault to elude the dart, then throws his hat from a kneeling position. It sails sideways, slicing off the shooter's right arm just below the elbow. He screams. Before standing up, Dev points the umbrella at the man who was on the other side of the car and is now trying to sneak up on the vampire from behind. Without looking, Dev shoots him square in the chest at point-blank range. He then rushes into the opposite row of cars to take cover and wait for the remainder of the enemy to show themselves. The two remaining fighters are now on his right. He moves in that direction, keeping the cars between him and them. He hears two men whispering. They can't understand how the vampire got a gun into the building. (They may no longer have vampire detectors, but they do have surveillance cameras with scanners that detect unauthorized firearms and automatically alert security. This makes much more sense to them, since a man with an AK can cause far more carnage far more quickly than a vampire with fangs.) Not sure how heavily armed Devlin is, they call for backup. One of them fires plastic bullets towards Dev's position to neutralize him while the other runs over to check on the other men. The shots force Devlin to stay hunkered down. He spots the shooter forty feet in front of and ten feet to the right of himself. The man's protected by adjacent parked cars if Dev tries to shoot him and easily able to hit Dev if the vampire tries to make a run for it before backup arrives.

Devlin fires straight ahead, taking out the window of a Mercedes two parking spots to the right of where the commando's hiding. As he hoped, the car has an alarm, and it starts blaring. This distracts the fighter for the three seconds it takes Dev to rush towards him, attack the man from the left and slit his throat with the makeshift bayonet. As the dead man falls on his face, the last healthy commando drops to his knees and fires from sixty feet away. Dev drops to his stomach and puts a bullet into the man's upper left thigh, four inches from his groin. The fighter falls on his side and cries out in pain as Devlin runs to grab his hat, which lies twenty feet beyond the fellow he amputated, who by now has passed out from shock. Dev reaches down, picks it up, puts it on, retracts his bayonet and rushes into the sewers only seconds before a half-dozen more security paramilitaries arrive to view the slaughter. While underground, Dev takes out a handkerchief and wipes the blood off the brim of his hat and the end of his umbrella. Five blocks to the west, Devlin emerges out of a manhole cover in an alley, holding the unfurled umbrella above his head for shade. He walks one-and-a-half blocks south to a parking lot and gives the attendant a ten-spot for a five dollar stay, hoping this will deflect any questions as to why he's carrying an umbrella on a sunny day. The man brings up his car, Devlin gets in and drives off. He rather enjoyed the attempt on his life. Anything to brighten up an otherwise dull afternoon.

"You attacked him!! Without my permission!," Angel exclaims to the frightened security chief standing on the other side of his desk.

"It's our standing order not to allow demonic intruders to escape from the building. We destroyed four in the past week alone."

"Why wasn't I informed about any of this?"

"We didn't want to waste your time. Most intrusions are for petty reasons that have nothing to do with you."

"You engaged in a firefight in the parking garage. What about innocent bystanders?"

"There were none. And he was the one firing lead rounds. Even though no gun was detected on his person."

"Because he was firing out of," Angel shakes his head incredulously, "an umbrella."

"My men were severely traumatized by their injuries. But each and every one of them confirmed this detail."

"And he had a hat like the guy in Goldfinger.'"

"I know it sounds silly, but it did take off one of my men's arms. Which is not silly."

"Was our medical staff able to reattach it?"

"Unfortunately, some of the dirt on the floor of the garage seeped into the severed limb, and it became infected."

"How many men did you lose?," Angel asks, using the second person to communicate his inherent estrangement from a force that's a holdover from the bad old days.

"Two dead. Four injured. Three severely. One critical."

"Were these men experienced?"

"They were among my best. Followed standard procedure. Acted with utmost caution."

"And still, this punk splattered the floor with them."

"We were unaware of his unorthodox weaponry."

"And if you were aware?"

"We would have gone in with a larger force, isolated the intruder and waited him out."

"In the future, I'll be sure to alert you about hazardous and save your men from these sorts or dangers," Angel replies condescendingly. "You can leave now." The man hangs his head low and walks out. Spike walks in, looking far too happy.

"Heard your men in black had a bad afternoon, thanks to my boy."

"You sound proud."

"Wouldn't you be? Besides, I thought these soldiers of evil he took out were the enemy."

"He had a tricked-out umbrella."

"The Avengers.' Dev was a big fan."

"I can think of at least three or four people off the top of my head who could build that for the right price."

"He put it together himself. Clever piece of work. The canopy contains two layers of kevlar with a paper-thin sheet of titanium in between. Stops crossbows from twenty feet and bullets from forty. Saw him test it myself. Dev's a very bright boy. Always full of surprises."

"He likes gadgets?," Angel asks disparagingly.

"Not especially. But he has a knack for being prepared for whatever scrape he might find himself in."

"Yet another way he doesn't take after you."

"Why should he? What use did I have for a lesser me? Dev learned pretty quick to be my compliment. To compensate for my supposed weaknesses."

"That's how he made himself useful to you. But now he's on his own. No longer the sidekick."

"And he's trying to outdo me." Angel mulls this over.

"You really think that's what he's up to?"

"Unfortunately."

Debbie checks her hair in the mirror in the foyer. She wears black jeans and a white turtleneck sweater. Devlin walks up to her from behind. "Careful. You don't wanna look too good. That might give him the wrong idea." Deb jumps slightly when she turns around and sees Dev. She's still not used to fact that her boyfriend can be standing three feet behind her and still be invisible in the mirror.

"Wouldn't wanna look too grungy, either. Then he might think I'm living in squalor and take even more pity on me. That would also give him the wrong idea. I'm not living in squalor. Just living in sin." She laughs weakly at her own joke and then sighs. The fact she's shacking up with an older man is the least sordid part of their relationship, morally paling in comparison to the fact that he's soulless and undead.

"I know a thing or two about sin. If being with me is you're biggest one, you're on the fast track to Heaven, Deb." She fiddles with his bangs with her right hand. He's still wearing the pinstripe pants and open-collared blue oxford shirt from that afternoon. "You like the new look?," he asks her.

"It's cute. Kinda like choirboy meets investment banker. Reminds me a little of what you would have looked like if you had a chance to grow up, graduate from college, get a fancy job." They both look somber and share a few seconds of serious silence.

"Then you never woulda met me." Deb closes her eyes, grimaces and buries her head in his chest. Dev puts his arms around her.

"When did life become so complicated?," she asks rhetorically. Deb recognizes that Herman/Devlin becoming a vampire was an awful thing. But she also knows that if he hadn't, she'd be dead. Everything about Devlin is wrong. And yet she loves him. It's all a bit much for a girl to deal with. Devlin understands. He holds her for a while, then gently kisses her forehead.

"Since forever. Least it's a little nicer for a lotta people, thanks to you." Deb smiles and wraps her arms tightly around Devlin's torso. This is her one consolation. Because to her, Devlin's not killing. Because to him, she's a moderately-skilled Vampire Slayer. The world would be a worse place if they had never met. They hear Angel's car pull into the driveway.

"That's my ride," she says, letting go of him.

"Right on time. I had a feeling he'd be punctual."

"Are you sure you're alright with this?"

"Absolutely, love. It's like a Superpower Summit. A chance for the leaders to get together, talk things over, keep the lines of communication open. It prevents misunderstandings. Keeps them from accidentally nuking each other."

"You make me sound so important," she replies with a playful smirk. The doorbell rings.

"Time to go meet with the leader of the Evil Empire," he jokes. She walks over to the door and looks out of the peephole.

"It's a woman."

"Time for my date," Dev kids. "How do I look?" Deb picks up a small stake and gently pokes his chest.

"Don't tempt me," she warns with a mischievous grin.

"No fair. You always tempt me," he insolently replies. She leans her head up and they smooch for a few seconds before the doorbell rings again.

"Dev, it's been great while it lasted, but I think it's time we started seeing other vampires," she sarcastically declares as she opens the door. "Hey. You must be Fred."

"You must be Debbie," Fred nervously replies as she sizes up the Slayer. Deb hands her the stake.

"Just in case," she says with a smirk before walking out to Angel's Viper. He didn't bother to get out and suffer the indignity of Devlin taunting him with the fact he can't come inside. She gets in, and he takes off. "A sports car. Good thing it's not red, or I'd think you're having a mid-life crisis."

"Nice to see you too, Debbie."

"Look, I don't mean to diss. It's just, ya know, - "

"A defense mechanism?"

"My way of making small talk. Guess a powerful guy like you isn't used to people busting his balls. I may have taken some cheap shots the other night when we met. But I didn't mean anything by it. You came to my turf. I wanted to make sure you were on the defensive. I know you're here to help, chocked full of good intentions and all that."

"Usually the Good Cop and the Bad Cop are played by two completely different people," Angel quips.

"Friend or foe. When I feel threatened, I scratch and snarl. When I know I'm safe, I can be nice and sweet and domesticated."

"I understand your suspicion."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Skip the empathy. So where we goin'?"

"Nice, quiet spot on the coast just across the San Diego County line. Perfect for walking and talking."

"Or killing," she jokes.

"I guess I'll just have to trust you," Angel replies in jest. Things seem to be going quite well quite quickly. They're developing a lively, casual repartee. Angel decides to get down to business. "So Debbie. What was it like when you first discovered your powers?"

Back at the house, things aren't quite so chummy. Fred and Devlin stand on opposite sides of the living room. "Let me take you coat," Dev suggests as he walks towards her. Fred quickly backs away.

"That's okay. I can do it myself." She walks into the foyer, takes off her jacket and heads back into the living room, standing at the front edge of the room, frozen like a stature, fifteen feet from the demon who could easily attack her.

"Don't worry. I won't bite." Dev chuckles, but quickly stops when he realizes Fred doesn't get the joke. She isn't used to the concept of a vampire without a soul who would choose not to kill. Angelus was certainly nothing like that. Sure, Devlin hasn't bitten Debbie. But she sleeps with him. And Fred's not about to put out to save her neck. "I'm around people all the time," he assures her. "Why would I kill the one person with friends and co-workers who could dust me very quickly?"

"Mutually assured destruction," she cheerfully concludes. "I can get with that." Dev sits on the couch.

"You're not going to stand for three hours?" She looks around in vain for a chair. "Come on," he pleas. "I'm almost beginning to feel insulted. Am I that repulsive?" Fred looks down at the stake in her right hand, grips it tightly (not because she's genuinely afraid, but as a sort of security blanket) and walks over to the couch, sitting down to Dev's right. "Haven't had a first date this awkward since high school." She laughs weakly at his joke. "How far do you and Spike go back?"

"Just to last summer. When he showed up here rather suddenly."

"When he came back incorporeal." She looks suspicious, wondering how he knows this. "Spike told me. Didn't tell me much else, though. Are you two close?"

"Not terribly. But we spent some time together when he was a ghost and I was tryin' to figure out how to make him solid again."

"You cared about him."

"He has a soul. He saved the world. No one else seemed to care. I kinda pitied the poor guy."

"I pity him too," he quips, upsetting Fred, since she knows he pities Spike for very different reasons. "You must be at least the slight bit curious about his past. And, by extension, about my past with him. Now's your chance. Anything you wanna know?" Dev sighs. "Or, failing that, anything Angel might want to know?"

"Don't get me wrong. I'm curious. You're certainly an unusual specimen."

"How clinical. I feel like I'm about to be probed," he self-deprecates. She's beginning to get an inkling of his inner geek.

"Your birth name was Herman. How did you get the name Devlin?"

"That's a very good story. It was eleven nights after I rose. I had convinced Spike to come along with me to my hometown of Fairlawn. It's a cozy little suburb just outside of Akron and thirty miles south of Cleveland."

NEXT: Dev tells Fred some revealing and unsettling stories about the Spike he knew. Meanwhile, Debbie recounts her personal history to Angel. Plenty of exciting flashbacks to help fill in the narrative.